CHAPTER 17 #4
The abused and humiliated Cinderella silently cleaned the rooms and the fireplace, but thanks to the fairy godmother’s grace, she was given the most magnificent gown and danced with the prince all night at the ball.
Thumbelina wandered endlessly, almost marrying the blind mole, but in the end, she was taken to the kingdom of flowers and fairies.
The little boy snuggled in her arms, sleeping sweetly and contentedly.
Hedy gently blew out the lamp, placed him down carefully, and stepped out of the room.
A sudden wave of longing washed over her—she missed her own children and the memories tied to them.
As she walked out of the house, the courtyard was empty, not even a cat had stayed behind.
Moonlight, soft as gossamer, poured down, and the stars twinkled brightly and cheerfully in the sky.
The brown-haired young man held his breath as he closed the door, whispering a soft goodnight.
He sat back down by the light, wanting to record his thoughts on the dissection of the day, but soon found himself lost in thought.
The tip of his pen moved almost absentmindedly, sketching the mermaid with long, flowing hair.
Her smile was so reminiscent of the person in his heart.
——
Da Vinci had a natural fascination with stories.
After his exposure to the theater, he spent most of his time there, tirelessly helping to adjust the stage and even making costumes by hand. Even a well-worn tale like a knight rescuing a damsel could captivate him, and he would watch it many times.
The entertainment of this era was limited in such a way.
There were roughly four types of plays, all closely tied to Christianity.
Religious plays were reenactments of various scenes from the Bible, performed during major and minor festivals, and almost everyone in the city could recite the lines from The Adoration of the Magi.
Mystery plays were somewhat more interesting, focusing on the amazement and curiosity of characters, both great and small, when encountering miracles. Events like God's resurrection or angelic appearances always had different twists added.
Moral plays were highly revered by the gentry and the congregation, with stories often rigid and formulaic, promoting virtue and condemning sin. However, they gradually lost the attention of the public.
The last type was far removed from divine figures—comedies.
They featured common people in humorous situations, with mischievous antics and antics that could induce fits of laughter from the audience.
Da Vinci had years of collaboration with many theaters in Florence, and several owners would compete to invite him for drinks as a gesture of thanks and camaraderie.
However, over time, even the most entertaining comedies lost their charm.
But that night, as he listened to a bedside story by Raphael by the window, it was a tale he had never encountered before.
It had nothing to do with the divine or morality.
The story introduced a rich and fascinating new world, where people of all ages could have their own joys and pursuits.
And all the plots served only the story itself, never resorting to preachy moral lessons.
For two or three days after, Da Vinci continued to reflect on those few stories.
When he heard Raphael mention that Hedy had been coming over frequently, he couldn’t help but ask about it.
So, young Raphael, while stirring egg whites, told him the story of Snow White and the Queen.
It was so fascinating that he even wanted to hear it again.
Why did the poisoned apple get stuck in her throat?
The golden carriage, the talking dove, and the broken pieces of the mirror inside her heart...
A man, often praised by ladies as ‘elegantly mature,’ fell into deep thought, pondering how he could hear more stories like that.
The smallpox vaccination process was progressing smoothly, and at least the Medici family’s children had mostly been successfully vaccinated.
Little Piero and his brothers had been sent to the Roman papacy and only came back about three or four times a year, but she had already arranged for the nuns to learn how to administer the vaccine, and there would be time to make up for it later.
Other families gradually heard the news, amazed that smallpox could be prevented and envious of the Medici family for having such a learned and wise distant relative.
As the weather gradually warmed, Hedy began to visit more vineyards. On one hand, she was checking the recovery of the plants; on the other hand, she was looking for new business opportunities.
She understood some basic knowledge of genetics—if she could cultivate disease-resistant, plump, and sweet grapes, she might be able to capture a large portion of the European wine market.
In ancient times, vegetables and fruits were constantly selected and cultivated by humans.
They might have started out dry and bitter, like how watermelons were once as oddly shaped as tomatoes, but with selection and cultivation, these foods were gradually enhanced, becoming the forms we recognize today.
In such times, Leonardo’s presence seemed almost like that of a knight.
She had to admit that, besides mice, there were many things she was afraid of.
And on the overgrown farms, these things were everywhere—very, very many of them.
From small caterpillars and swarms of eggs to locusts and praying mantises as big as half a hand, and the spiders on the trees and grapevines.
For farm women, these things were as ordinary as could be. Even if a palm-sized spider suddenly fell on them, they would just roughly brush it off, and only a very rare few would scream or turn pale.
Hedy made an effort to maintain her composure and decorum, while Leonardo quietly ensured her protection from the side.
He would wave a branch to clear the path for her, scaring off even the grass snakes hidden in the fallen leaves.
As for the wild dogs, the farmers who attempted to extort money, and the insects and ants that occasionally appeared between the plants, none of these posed any problem in the presence of this knight.
Hedy had grown accustomed to following him, occasionally explaining matters related to genetics—
Four months ago, they had cleared an acre of pea field, starting to record their hypotheses on genetic expression.
Leonardo usually had endless topics to discuss, even something as small as a lark with wet wings that had fallen by the window would find its way into conversation.
But in recent days, he seemed hesitant, quiet—much quieter than usual.
Hedy, while observing the growth of the pea plants and jotting down a myriad of details, casually asked, “Leonardo, what have you been thinking about lately?”
The young man cleared his throat and answered seriously, “Nothing.”
“Really nothing?” She glanced at him, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Then I won’t ask.”
“No—wait.” Leonardo muttered, “Can you tell me a few stories?”
“Stories?” Hedy paused, her pen hovering for a moment as she navigated around a cluster of tilted plants. Realizing what he meant, she asked, “Did Raphael tell you those fairy tales?”
Leonardo honestly nodded. “I really liked them. I’ve never heard of them before…”
Hedy raised an eyebrow, a sudden sense of regret flickering in her heart.
She knew his personality and tastes. If someone like him were placed five hundred years into the future, he might not have cared about painting at all, but instead become obsessed with reality shows and the production of television series.
When she first saw the stage designs he created in the Sforza Palace, Hedy had felt a sense of loss.
Leonardo had actually created works far more intricate and dazzling than those paintings, but many of them could only remain in this time, never to be replicated in the future.
If this era had cameras, people would marvel at such a genius in the world.
“Alright,” she said. “Then just tell me any story.”
Perhaps it was because Leonardo had now grown into a tall and handsome young man, but Hedy didn’t choose a fairy tale meant to lull children to sleep. Instead, she told him the story of The Bridge of Sighs.
In 1940, for personal reasons, she had missed out on film roles for Gaslight and Casablanca, and chose to star with Clark Gable in Boom Town.
That gentleman later garnered multiple award nominations for It Happened One Night and Gone with the Wind, becoming forever etched in the hearts of audiences as Rhett Butler.
It was also that same year that The Bridge of Sighs became an instant hit, and she heard it was quite popular in the East as well.
As Hedy recalled the long-gone days of her past life, she lowered her head, writing an experimental report in Italian, and shared a sad and poignant story with Leonardo.
A young dancer, falling in love at first sight with an officer on a long bridge, missed her performance to meet him for one last time. In the end, fate played its cruel hand, and she was reduced to living as a prostitute, selling her body to survive.
But contrary to the rumors, the officer didn’t die abroad. Instead, he returned, full of honor and pride.
The fallen and tortured young woman could never come to terms with it, and on the eve of becoming a bride, she jumped from the very bridge where they had first met.
Leonardo had originally been tending to the pea plants while listening to her tell the story, but gradually, his movements began to slow.
By the time Hedy finished telling the story of the girl who fell from the bridge, he remained silent for a long time.
Hedy observed his expression, her voice softening as she said, “Perhaps this story was a bit too heavy.”
But, in this era, people might understand the concepts of chastity and love even more deeply.
Extreme self-restraint and indulgence intertwined in a constant cycle, love and sex were completely separated, and Platonic relationships were illogically forced upon people.
Yet, even in the darkest times of the Middle Ages, people still longed for love, as if it were an instinct of beasts.
To approach one another, to become the only one in another's life, even to love someone so deeply that one would be willing to die for them.
“I think I understand a little,” Leonardo murmured. “She chose to fall from the bridge, not necessarily because she thought she was broken, no longer pure or clean.”
“You think…”
“Maybe it’s because such love demands perfection and extremity,” he said instinctively. “Because of love, one wants to give all the beauty of life to another person, to become someone flawless and worthy of being loved.”
And when she couldn’t achieve that, the overwhelming sense of loss and guilt would swallow her, as deep as an abyss.
Hedy paused, staring at him, then said, “That doesn’t sound like something you’d say.”
The Leonardo she remembered was a man who was almost obsessively focused on art.
He would embrace himself, hold his own hand, and had once firmly expressed his resistance to love and the opposite sex.
But when did he… start to understand all this?
The young man raised his eyes to look at her and suddenly realized something.
His feelings for her were no different.
She ran the ranch, researched the grapevines, and dealt with penicillin and political issues.
He instinctively followed her, and nearly all his time revolved around her.
His world had no room for anyone else.
“Yeah,” he lowered his gaze and smiled.
“I guess I had to understand eventually.”
Just like an unavoidable wind.