CHAPTER 13
Hedy's business was growing larger and larger.
In her past life, she lived in poverty, with a large portion of her earnings poured into misguided investments, leaving her with little savings in her later years.
Perhaps due to the lessons learned from those experiences, she was now more cautious and careful with her wealth, constantly adjusting her strategies.
The penicillin workshop was actually a semi-state-owned enterprise, with real control lying in the hands of the Medici family.
This situation was quite in line with historical patterns. The Medici family’s golden coat of arms had five red spheres, which were once speculated by later generations to symbolize the origins of their pharmaceutical business.
There were various interpretations about whether the red symbols represented dents on an ancestor's knight shield or were used to symbolize the exchange and trade of money. Hedy had heard many explanations.
But whenever she saw such a crest hanging on several of her industries, she couldn't help but feel relieved.
Her wealth had protectors. As long as this family remained prosperous, not even thieves would dare to sneak in.
In addition to several newly built textile workshops, she also bought a plot of land for the production of pigments.
Although the method of producing and reducing copper sulfate blue had already been publicly disclosed for free, Hedy retained the process for making Prussian blue and applied for a patent from the government.
Over a hundred years ago, the UK had similar setups, and now, in an era of rapid development of new theories and technologies, protecting and profiting from patented techniques had become increasingly important.
Lorenzo not only approved the design for Prussian blue but also patented the method of preparing penicillin.
Now, many traveling merchants were selling small bottles of “penicillin,” deceiving desperate people into handing over all their money to be “cured.” This forced Hedy to stamp the Medici family crest directly onto the bottles for distinction and display.
While filling out the patent description, the clerk asked her what this blue should be called.
Hedy paused for a moment, suddenly realizing that the traditional name could no longer be used.
In chemistry, it should be called iron blue.
It was called Prussian blue because it had once been used for the long-term dyeing of German military uniforms.
However, neither of these names fit the current historical understanding, and it would be hard to explain even if she used one of them.
"Actually, after seeing Mr. Botticelli use this blue in his frescoes, we secretly gave it a name," the clerk suddenly laughed somewhat embarrassedly. "Because it really looks beautiful—it's completely different from ultramarine, much deeper and more distant."
"Eh?" Hedy was surprised. "What do you call it?"
"Pulchra caerulea," the clerk shrugged. "The Latin for 'beautiful blue'."
Hedy paused for a moment, then laughed silently. "Well, let's register it that way. It sounds nice."
At this point, the wedding of the Sforza family was finally approaching.
It was already September, and the weather was gradually getting cooler. The city was bustling with carriages going back and forth, creating quite a lively scene.
According to Florentine customs, a wedding typically involved three stages, each with many steps.
First, the intermediary introduced both families, then the groom would visit with gifts, but they couldn't have direct contact with the bride.
Once the wedding details were settled, a gathering would take place at either family's home. This stage was only for male family members, and the groom would need to bring even more lavish gifts, among which jewelry was essential for the wedding attire in the future.
The most important part of all was the wedding ring day.
The bride had to prepare a substantial dowry to ensure a prosperous life after marriage—if she was a poor orphan without any wealth, she would likely spend her life in a convent and would find it difficult to have a fulfilling marriage.
The groom, on the other hand, had to provide her with luxurious clothing and jewelry to show off the status and identity of both families.
Since the Alberti family operated in Florence and the Sforza family were the lords of Milan, the wedding had to start with a family banquet in Florence. The next day, the bride would be taken to Milan, where a procession around the city would begin to announce it to the citizens.
As one of the families involved, Hedy was invited to the wedding and witnessed the moment when the bride and groom exchanged rings.
The young lady had her dark brown hair tucked under a hat, and her long neck and collarbones were exposed. Her gown was made of light gold and deep blue brocade, and her neck and fingers were adorned with large jewelry.
Embroidery of bindweed leaves decorated the cuffs, and tiny white pearl-like beads were sewn onto the collar. When she looked at her husband, there was a hint of playful pride and a touch of coquettishness in her eyes.
After the vows were exchanged and the groom kissed the bride, the guests began to cheer and enjoy the celebration and feast.
The theater actors were invited to perform short plays, while the sound of the piano was drowned out by the noisy laughter.
On the green lawn, long tables were set with bouquets, and servants moved back and forth, refilling glasses and delivering drinks. Many others lined up in long rows, dancing together.
The waltz's appearance was actually linked to Hedy, though people were unaware of it.
In this era, people's dances were typically performed in rows, moving forward in parallel and then constantly changing. The waltz and related dance steps did not yet exist; dancing too closely was seen as somewhat indecent.
At last year's New Year's celebration for the lord’s birthday, after drinking a little too much apple cider, she taught a young boy, about four or five years old, how to dance.
The boy had the face of an innocent angel, and when he smiled, it was pure and beautiful. In no time, he was holding both of her hands, twirling around the entire hall, drawing the attention of many people.
Afterward, at several more banquets, she never saw the boy again, and she didn’t think much of it.
When she arrived in Milan for the Sforza family’s birthday banquet, she was surprised to see many people dancing in the same manner.
At the time, Hedy thought she might have misremembered and asked a local where this new dance came from—whether it had been something people had always danced.
To her surprise, the answer was completely unexpected: "—It came from Rome. It’s very fashionable, isn’t it?"
Rome?
Shouldn’t it have been Florence?
Now, nearly everyone seemed to be dancing in this style.
This new type of dance blended the waltz's signature hand-holding and embracing with the formality and ceremonial nature of court dances. Combined with waltzes imitating the “Blue Danube,” it looked quite elegant.
Move forward, step back, spin—
Hedy had no intention of correcting the exact steps, so she joined the long line and danced with strangers.
As the music swayed, people rotated and swapped partners.
When she turned around, she suddenly caught a glimpse of a familiar pair of eyes.
Lorenzo had grasped her hand with one of his, guiding her forward again.
The sounds of the violin and bagpipes made the courtyard unusually noisy, while the lute’s song evoked thoughts of nightingales.
She followed the rhythm of the others, holding his hand, moving forward, then backward, and as they twirled, her green skirt billowed like a blooming cornflower.
He remained silent and calm, just like the strangers who didn’t know her, without exchanging a single word.
Hedy listened to the strange, melodic music and suddenly realized that she had been here almost four years.
The first year, she entered the Doge's Palace. The second year, she pioneered microbiology. The third year, she returned from Milan and learned of the battle reports and the situation. And now, in the fourth year, the two national leaders had passed away, and a new era had only just begun.
Time had passed by without her even noticing.
When she first arrived, her body was probably around the age of nineteen. Now, by her calculations, she would be turning twenty-three in three months.
Lorenzo looked down at her, his steps quickening or slowing in sync with the rhythm of the music.
If he leaned down just a little more, he could kiss her forehead—or even her lips. He only needed to lower his head slightly, and he could pretend it was an unintentional accident.
The scent of hyacinths lingered in her hair, and her neck was long and slender.
She was half-embraced by him, almost like his lover.
His breath paused for two or three seconds, then continued quietly.
“Mr. Lorenzo?” Hedy sensed something strange and asked softly with concern, “Is your gout bothering you again? How’s your health lately?”
“Mmm.” He shifted his gaze faintly, looking at a distant statue of a god.
“You seem like you’re holding something back,” she said, also looking off into the distance, her tone gentle with a faint smile. “If it's because of political matters, don’t worry too much—it will get better.”
No, it wasn’t politics that he was suppressing. It was the urge to kiss her.
For a brief moment, Lorenzo even thought of other possibilities.
If it were another man, with his position as lord, he might have invited her to become his mistress and even have a child with her.
But he would never do that, and neither would she.
The violin played a long, lingering note, and the crowd once again parted like waves, exchanging partners in a cross-pattern.
The two of them calmly separated, not once looking back at each other.
It was no longer unusual for women to be involved in politics.
In fact, some of them might do it better than men.