CHAPTER 13 #7
The regent, clearly having learned from the tragic death of his older brother, never recklessly entangled himself with married women. Yet, before and after his marriage, he had numerous mistresses, some of whom even lived with him. One had borne him two sons and a daughter.
Interestingly, his new bride didn’t seem to mind and would even drink with his mistresses.
This had become the most talked-about gossip in town, so much so that even Dechio couldn’t resist mentioning it.
Hedy silently listened to the explanation and began to wonder whether the children the bride would bear would truly be Sforza’s.
When a woman shows indifference to her partner's infidelity, there are typically two possibilities: she doesn’t love him, or she loves many people.
Affairs and indulgent celebrations weren’t anything new in the medieval world.
Using the gold she had saved, Hedy purchased two dairy workshops and merged them into one.
With a large herd of cattle nearby, milk prices were unbelievably low.
Hedy was well-versed in making cheeses and various pastries, and within just two months, she had improved production lines and manufacturing techniques several times. The products were flying off the shelves.
Once money is invested wisely, it can lay golden eggs like a frenzied hen.
By August, Hedy’s assets had doubled from what they were when she first arrived, and she had purchased three new workshops in one go.
The weather had grown increasingly hot, and it was clear that stepping outside for a stroll would lead to sunburn.
Hedy quietly bought some saltpeter to make ice blocks, and fruit shaved ice became a long-awaited indulgence.
After her leisure time, she wanted to find something to occupy her, so she wandered through the various rooms and eventually found herself in Da Vinci’s studio, suddenly taking an interest in the space.
By now, the process and techniques of egg tempera painting were no mystery to her.
More importantly, in her past life, she had already been proficient in painting— and quite good at it.
Modern paints were stable, neatly packaged in cans or tubes. But in this era, many materials were still in the early stages of development, though they were already usable.
Hedy gathered some pigments and couldn't help but smile when she saw the copper sulfate blue.
She decided to paint a water lily pond in a style reminiscent of impressionism, using more modern techniques to blend the colors.
When Da Vinci returned with a caramel apple in hand, he happened to glance into the room and saw her painting.
He paused outside the window, standing still for a long time as his expression blanked. All the stories he had heard before vanished from his mind, leaving only a whirlwind of emotions.
Hedy—Hedy was painting?!
Why would she paint? Or perhaps she could already do this before meeting him?
The black-haired girl was focused on applying color, her expression calm and gentle.
Her water lilies were brought to life with layers of blended colors, and the depth of the water, with its light and dark variations, was distinctly visible.
There was no Madonna, no mythological figures, nor any Christian elements.
What she was painting was pure nature.
The water lilies opened their petals, the river rippled gently, and the twilight glow reflected on the water like melting honey, casting a soft golden light.
The painting had no clear lines. It seemed to be created through layers upon layers of color, blending and overlapping in ways that were almost indescribable.
In that moment, his mind went blank. He stared at the painting for a long time before finally looking back at her.
Hedy leaned forward, mixing the colors, her slightly curled black hair cascading over her shoulder, and her long, fair neck barely visible beneath the strands.
Her nonchalant expression made one think of a flower goddess wandering through the forest, her pale blue eyes as clear as jewels.
Compared to the first time he had met her five years ago, she had become even more intelligent and mature. Even the slightest arch of her brow now held an almost hypnotic charm.
At that moment, Da Vinci felt his heart suddenly begin to race, the blood rushing through his veins faster, and his mind buzzing as if something was reverberating inside it.
She was so serene, so beautiful. Even the falling strands of hair seemed perfect, as if painted by Giotto himself...
His heart continued to speed up, a sensation so strange it left him feeling almost dazed.
Da Vinci took a deep breath, covering his mouth just before he exhaled. He quickly placed the dessert on the windowsill and hurried back to his bedroom, grabbing his notebook and forcing himself to focus on calculations and work.
He couldn’t explain the feeling that had swept over him earlier, but as he walked back to his room, he realized he was smiling foolishly.
The feeling of his racing heart was so strange that he almost wanted to experience it again. When he looked at her, it seemed as if the entire world had quieted down.
And that painting—its layered colors, its design without clear lines, the subtle but impossible-to-grasp depiction of contours...
Da Vinci covered his face with his hand, realizing his cheeks were slightly flushed.
He took another deep breath, tapping his forehead with his fingers, trying to focus on work again.
But when he finally looked up, he saw that the notebook in front of him wasn’t filled with equations or force analysis diagrams. Instead, there was a sketch of her profile.
The slightly lowered gaze was perfectly captured, the lips drawn only halfway.
The artist, who had never been moved in thirty-one years, pushed the notebook aside and buried his face in the book, remaining like that for a long time.
Just a moment ago, he had even thought about opening the door and kissing her directly.