CHAPTER 15 #4
"The first sign of maturity is not bringing her trouble. Do you understand?"
Da Vinci instinctively stood up, but then quickly sat back down again.
"I made a mistake," he murmured. "I should explain it to her. How about writing her a letter?"
Atalante muttered to himself, This man taught me for five years, and I can't just walk away, and then took a deep breath. "You need to go find her."
"Now, immediately, right now."
"Find her?" Da Vinci stood up again, his face filled with both nervousness and hope. "Will she see me?"
"Leonardo," Atalante said, restraining himself from knocking Da Vinci on the head, "you need to get your mind back from those flying tricks and stage effects. She’s angry with you, she wants some distance, and she no longer trusts you the same way.
If you still love her, you need to get her back, and you should do it in a gentlemanly and mature way. Understand?"
Da Vinci quickly grabbed his outer robe, turning to leave.
"I'm going to see her," he said, his steps hurried. "Right now."
"Hey—" Atalante called after him through the window, his voice carrying long and loud, "Take my horse—the faster one!"
——
When Da Vinci left, he was still in his right mind, remembering to check the doors and windows of Hedy's bedroom and study, making sure they were all properly closed and locked.
He noticed that the portrait had been hanging in her bedroom, and in quite a prominent spot. This discovery relieved him, and he felt a long-forgotten sense of relief.
Atalante was handling the housekeeper and servant matters. Upon hearing that the boy had broken another pot, she turned to him again, “How long do you plan on keeping this troublesome little one?”
The servants at home were considerate of his feelings, even when they reported things, they did so with a rather gentle tone.
Da Vinci was still checking the food provisions for the journey when he instinctively wanted to argue upon hearing her words.
Before he could explain further, Atalante simply and rudely interrupted him, “Don’t tell me how dependent this child is on you, or about your saintly attitude.”
“Leonardo, if you like children this much, you should marry her and have a bunch of them. No one will stop you from spoiling them as much as you want, understand?”
The man seemed to recall a memory, blushing as he muttered a sound in response.
“Children are just like those stray cats and dogs, always crying and fussing,” Atalante said, helping him with the saddle in a tone of clear disdain.
“Even if you want to raise one, you can pick a more obedient child—those little beggars on the street are definitely more well-behaved than that little devil.”
“When I get back…”
“Give me their address, and I’ll send him home,” Atalante waved her hand, “Good heavens, you’ve changed so much in the past year. Falling in love doesn't mean you have to get stupid, does it?”
Da Vinci clearly breathed a sigh of relief. Such a cruel task, if left to him, he could never bring himself to do it.
He could vaguely feel how the child was using him, yet he was somehow compelled, as if something deep inside him was being pulled and he couldn’t resist.
“Please,” he said in a low voice. “Thank you.”
“Be careful on the road—hurry up and bring my boss back!” Atalante slapped the horse’s hindquarters, “Remember to comfort her well!”
Every time Hedy walked into the Doge's Palace, it felt like entering the lair of a giant dragon.
From the dome to the walls, nearly every surface was gilded and magnificent. The countless oil paintings and sculptures on display were even more grand than in a museum.
She returned here at midnight, tired from travel, and after a quick wash, collapsed into a deep sleep.
When she woke up, she felt as though she had never left. The room's arrangement had not changed at all, and the books she loved were still there.
In addition, there were fresh bouquets of dew-covered irises on the nightstand and the desk, and everything had been cleaned to perfection.
It felt as though the room had been frequently tidied up since her departure. Even the cook responsible for breakfast remembered her old preferences, always getting the balance of salt and spices just right.
After finishing her grooming, Hedy went to the office as usual to hand over her work.
She noticed a long line downstairs, with people coming and going, seemingly busy moving things.
"Dechio?" She called out, trying to get his attention. "What are they doing?"
"They're moving, madam," Dechio explained, standing by the window. "Half of the Doge’s Palace has already been emptied. It’s expected that in a month or two, everything will be moved out."
"Moving?" Hedy asked, her expression confused. "Where to?"
"To the southern hills," Dechio explained. "The gatekeeper said the lord has built a new palace there using Mr. Pitti’s manuscripts. It’s already in its final stages of renovation and decoration."
Palazzo Pitti?
She paused for a moment, suddenly realizing something.
Before she left, she had casually mentioned it to Mr. Lorenzo.
Now, it had actually been completed—the renowned art sanctuary, the Palazzo Pitti?
Hedy was momentarily stunned, not knowing what to say.
When she met Lorenzo the previous day, it felt as if they had returned to their professional relationship, as though everything that had needed to end had already come to a close.
"However, once everyone moves south of the Arno River, I suppose this palace will be renamed the Old Palace," Dechio sighed with a touch of regret. "It's a bit of a shame."
Hedy adjusted her emotions and, after preparing herself, went to the office.
She wasn’t sure how long she would stay in Florence, but at least she needed to resolve the current issues.
When the door to the office opened for her, she saw many people already present. There were farmers with worried faces, chatty priests, and some familiar faces from the Florence Academy.
As soon as they saw her, everyone stood up and began awkwardly introducing themselves. The lord sat behind them, quietly handling documents.
Hedy instinctively glanced at his expression and focused her attention on the explanations that followed.
The illness, as they said, had reportedly come from a foreigner's estate.
First, their orange trees and vines had died, and then more and more orchards started suffering.
Someone had cautiously brought in samples of the diseased leaves, and the nearby scholars recoiled in disgust upon seeing them, as if afraid of being infected.
Hedy, wearing gloves, examined the traces on the leaves.
The clear disease spots were light yellow or brown, with no insect holes, but there was a black, fuzz-like substance on the underside of the leaves.
She immediately recognized it as mycelium.
"It's not a demon," she murmured. "It's a plant disease."
Upon hearing this, some people around her expressed agreement or anger, while the poor farmer covered his face, asking if there was any hope for a cure.
Hedy wasn’t sure what to use to get rid of the disease, but she knew that penicillin wouldn’t work.
From her correspondence over the past two years, she knew that Florence already had about ten official penicillin workshops, capable of meeting the needs of the upper class.
If a more virulent strain of the fungi could be found, it might save the lives of the poor.
Using something like penicillin to solve a plant disease problem would be far too costly.
She thought for a moment and then explained the experiment timeline and requirements, apologizing, "I’ve never dealt with this kind of disease before, but it will require some time, I’m sorry."
The lord stood up and tried to calm the increasingly anxious crowd, turning to her: "Will this disease threaten people's safety?"
"It shouldn’t, as long as there is no direct contact with these leaves through the hands or mouth and the hands are washed properly."
Before she finished speaking, the person who had been holding the leaves rushed out of the room.
"Where's the water—?"
Returning to her laboratory, Hedy found that some of her redundant equipment had already been moved to the new palace.
Hedy was so far removed from her past memories that she could barely recall what Palazzo Pitti looked like in the future.
The young alchemist sighed as she stared at the test tubes and various bottles and jars, beginning her research on the diseased leaves.
She had arranged for plants at different stages of infection to be brought to her, all grown in the same soil in her laboratory.
There were many ways to kill the plague; even toxic substances could help to suppress it.
But the problem was that these plants still needed to be cultivated for food and wine production.
If they were to burn down all the infected vineyards, the economic losses would likely drive the farmers to despair.
The solution had to not only effectively suppress the fungus but also ensure the grapes could continue to grow and be safe for consumption after treatment, with food safety confirmed by biological testing.
Hedy made a list and began organizing the servants to record and manage the daily tasks.
...It was a bit troublesome without Da Vinci here.
That man almost never needed much explanation. He could intuitively help her adjust tools and solve various experimental problems. Even without tools, he could create new ones at an astonishing speed.
More importantly, he was passionate and highly creative when it came to anything scientific.
She realized she was missing him, absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the table.
He was only suitable to be a friend, not a lover.
By the end of the day, six plants had been sprayed with different potions and were beginning to show slow changes.
The waiting process was quite long, so she decided to do as she used to in the palace—borrow books to read and visit the convent to help the nuns diagnose their health issues.