musicians of old

Chapter 826 Nitroglycerin
Upon hearing someone speak, the crowd quickly parted to make way for them.

Fanning saw that Vincent had been moved to a stretcher, his eyes closed, his face covered in sweat, his body curled up in spasms, and one hand tightly clutching his chest.

"Are you a doctor?"

The assistant eagerly confirmed with Fanning.

"Are you sure you can do something? Please think of a solution! The painter has suddenly suffered angina! He can't speak anymore!"

"Hey, I remember this person is a restoration technician at the museum."

"Shut up, shut up! I can't hear you!!"

People around were talking about it, while others were trying to maintain order.

As Fan Ning gazed at the middle-aged painter lying on the ground, his body covered in brown and gray, he felt a surge of emotions welling up inside him. He wondered if it was because of his previous appreciation of the painter's "Swing" series that had given him some preconceived notions and strange experiences. Many scenes and dialogues that seemed to belong to a different time and space suddenly rushed through his mind like "flashes of inspiration."

Fracture, recombination, squeeze, grafting.
This feeling of "flash" comes all at once and then disappears just as quickly. When Fan Ning came to his senses from the confusion, he felt that 99% of it had been lost in a dream, and he had only grasped a few eerie details.

Such as advanced knowledge or memories.

Repair reagents and medical agents
This includes, but is not limited to, these.

"gentlemen?"

"Are you a doctor? May I ask?"

Seeing Fan Ning standing there in a daze for more than ten seconds, the assistant, who had been full of hope, became even more anxious.

"Hurry up, carry it to the artifact restoration room." Fan Ning suppressed his unusual emotions and waved his hand to give the order.

"Collection restoration room?" Some people were puzzled, but they didn't dare to delay. Four staff members immediately lifted the stretcher off the ground, while others led the way.

Fan Ning followed the stretcher for a few steps, then thought about it a little more.

Isn't this a rare and irreplaceable opportunity to create legitimacy?

He turned to one of Vincent's female assistants and added, "Could you please go to the outdoor café on the north side and call those two girls over as well?"

"Uh, now? The collection restoration room?" This blonde, blue-eyed female assistant, who had been one of the people who inquired about and spread the "scandalous news" just half an hour ago, couldn't understand how this could be related to "carrying out first aid."

“I need to prepare some medicine because I suddenly remembered that there are some reagents in the repair room that may have medical effects. Nancy and I have some overlap in our business, and having her assist will greatly shorten the time.”

As Fan Ning walked quickly, he adopted a proper and composed demeanor.

"As for saving lives, I only have a limited degree of confidence. Having a well-known reporter on the scene as a third party is a way of protecting myself; otherwise, I probably wouldn't have dared to intervene."

"Understood, thank you very much, sir. I think no one will blame someone who tried their best to help. If anything goes wrong, I can also testify."

The female assistant quickly said thank you and then turned and ran away.

Soon, everyone reunited at the designated location, and the heavy cast-iron doors of the special collection restoration room were reopened.

"Due to the special nature of the venue, please send only one representative at most. Once inside, please do not touch any objects or move around unnecessarily."

Once they entered Fanning's area of ​​expertise, the inertia of authority became apparent. The four stretcher bearers left after placing Vincent firmly on the ground, leaving only the female assistant as a representative, followed by Nancy, the hammer-wielding woman, and the returning reporter, Ms. McAdam.

The restoration room is cold, dry, and quiet, with large rooms containing smaller rooms, and is filled with glass doors, warning lights, cold light sources, and professional equipment.

This made the female assistant move less frequently, simply standing far away in the outer corridor, occasionally glancing inside. "What should I call you?" Miss McAdam asked her.

"Ah, Nicole, you can just call me Nicole." The female assistant looked at the renowned editor-in-chief of the Vienna Art Review.

You look very familiar.

"Ah, really?"

"I think we had dealings with Mr. Vincent before?" Miss McAdam tried to recall the source of this sense of familiarity.

"Uh, but I'm a new employee from last month," Nicole, the blonde, blue-eyed female assistant, said, somewhat bewildered. The other person was a celebrity, so she naturally recognized him, but how could the other way around be true?
Miss McAdam was also puzzled and pondered.

Of course, it was just small talk.

On the other side, Fanning moved quickly. He took a brown bottle from the freezer, measured out a very small amount of nitroglycerin, and then directed Nancy to mix together lactose, starch, and a small amount of lubricant, including talcum powder.

"Huh?" In a split second, Fan Ning's expression changed. He finally realized where that sense of disorientation in time and space came from.

He was still not quite sure how he suddenly thought of nitroglycerin, an adjuvant that might be used in the restoration of artifacts, and also as an emergency medication for angina. He felt that he must have suddenly recalled the details of professional knowledge he had learned before.

But now, Fanning frowned and held the brown reagent bottle up to his face.
Production date: January 22, 1890.

1890! ?

No, what is nitroglycerin? Why would we need nitroglycerin?
"What's wrong?" Following Fanning's initial instructions, Nancy had already stirred the small amount of the mixture into a white paste in a flat container.

She noticed that Fan Ning's movements had stopped and couldn't help but ask in surprise.

"Oh, it's nothing." Fan Ning put down the bottle and squeezed the less than a fraction of a milliliter of nitroglycerin he had measured into the preparation.

After Nancy stirred it again, Fanning scraped it into a long-handled spoon.

After compacting, place it under Vincent's tongue.

"Mr. Fan Ning, you actually know about pharmacy?" The female reporter and her assistant were both skeptical.

"Let's help him up," Fan Ning sighed. "Put him in a chair to half-reclined and rest, wipe the sweat off his face a little. Okay, just like that, I'll adjust the chair angle."

Time continued to pass, and five minutes later, Fanning put another spoonful of medicine under Vincent's tongue. Five minutes later, he put another spoonful in.

After taking the medicine three times in a row, Vincent's brow finally relaxed, his throat moved, and his eyes opened.

The others breathed a sigh of relief, but their expressions remained worried.

The medicine prepared by the technician Fanning was indeed effective, but it was clear that the situation was not optimistic, judging from the painter's heart problems. At this moment, he looked as if he had aged more than ten times in a short time.

It was only by increasing the dosage to an extreme degree that the patient was temporarily given a second chance; the prognosis is hard to say.

Vincent's lips were pale, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke in a hoarse voice: "Thank you. I heard everything the whole way, but I couldn't speak before."

"Please advise, sir, the painter."

Fan Ning squatted down in front of him, but lowered her voice and tried to ask a question.

Does the concept of "phantom objects" exist in works of art?