Almighty painter

Chapter 1020 So this is the legendary "role-playing"!
Yang Dekang had never been so clearly aware that he was so close to a huge secret.

think about it.

Wasn't everything before him already perfectly explainable? Miss Elena's connections in the publishing world, her relationship with Osborne, Gu Weijing's dedication to illustration...

This information is like a jigsaw puzzle scattered across the world.

Usually, people can only get one or two pieces of the puzzle, at most three or four. Even if a few people have multiple pieces, they have long since mixed these pieces with so many other inconspicuous pieces in life.

Only Old Yang.

"Oh, my friends!"

Yang Dekang's lips trembled slightly as he muttered something under his breath, managing to force a boast at this incredibly shocking moment.

"Only me, I..."

"I am the real super detective!"

Old Yang picked out these fragments one by one, and then successfully pieced them together in his mind.

Detective Cat is fine too.

Mr. Sloth it is.

Ultimately, it all boils down to the same answer—

This day.

Yang Dekang sat in the car for a full hour, going through all the public relationships between Gu Weijing and Miss Elena over the past year, as well as the private interactions between Mr. Sloth and Detective Cat.

With Sherlock Holmes-like rigor, he deduced the unusually complex relationship between the painter and his agent.

On the surface, he was as cold as ice.

They secretly exchanged glances, their hearts burning with desire, and their eyes meeting secretly.

There's no other possibility!

Yang Dekang's extensive experience watching "Detective Conan" tells him that when you have eliminated all other possibilities, the answer that remains is the final answer.

There really is no other possibility!

There's only one ultimate truth behind why they did this!
"So—" the middle-aged detective pushed up his sunglasses and sighed deeply, "This is the legendary role-play!"

They are playing a very new game.

Yang Dekang couldn't understand it.

Yang Dekang was deeply shocked.
-
"Is this your new studio?"

"Yes."

Gu Weijing nodded.

The detective, dressed in a state trooper uniform, reached out and pushed the window of the meeting room, then looked at the latch, as if seriously considering the difficulty of breaking the window from the outside.

"Why not add a metal security grille on the outside?"

The detective suggested.

"Because it is said to be a historical building, it seems to be a house built during the Weimar Republic era or even earlier, and we hope to maintain its original appearance as much as possible."

Gu Weijing raised his hand and pointed to the small white box on the windowsill.

"But with the infrared sensor installed, it will automatically turn on after 11 p.m., so if someone tries to climb in through the window, someone will come to check."

The detective crouched down and stared at the sensor that Gu Weijing was pointing at for a few seconds.

He shook his head.

I don't know if they failed to identify the sensor model, or if they did identify it but thought that such a small white box was not as reliable as a security grille.

How much is this worth?

The detective stood up and pointed to the strange antique bronze head next to the bookshelf.

Gu Weijing thought about it.

“It’s hard to give an estimate,” he said.

"About? How expensive? 3 euros? 5 euros?" He looked at the artist's hesitant eyes, and his tone immediately became serious.

"Could it be... worth over 100,000 euros? And is this some kind of Weimar period antique? If it's that expensive, I actually suggest you put it in a safe—"

"15 pounds?"

Gu Weijing thought about it.

“I’m enrolled in a double degree program. Last semester I spent three months as an exchange student at an art academy in the UK. I bought it at a flea market near Heathrow. Normally it would cost over 100, but this one was cheaper because it was damaged.”

The painter said.

"That's it."

The detective chuckled awkwardly; he had assumed that everything in the studio of such a renowned artist would be very expensive.

"Theoretically, it's a defective product made with modern technology, but I found its shape interesting, so I bought it."

"And what about the painting that was stolen from you?"

The detective continued, "Could you give me a brief overview? If someone wanted to buy that artwork privately, what price would you suggest they would ask for?"

"To be honest, it's actually quite difficult to estimate its value."

Gu Weijing thought about it.

“This kind of work is not on the sales list. If it were in the Maes Gallery, it would probably cost tens of thousands of euros. If it also comes with some additional commemorative significance, such as winning the Master Project with this painting, then the value of the work can probably double.”

The detective nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

This detective, a member of the state police of a German federal state, was specifically in charge of investigating the "public art studio theft case" that occurred more than a month ago. Today, he made a special appointment with the school to ask Gu Weijing about the watercolor painting and, as an advisor to the school, to check the security of Gu Weijing's new art studio to prevent similar incidents from happening again.

"That artwork—do you have any leads?"

Gu Weijing inquired.

"The investigation into the case is still ongoing, sir." The detective thought for a moment and then added, "We have some suspects, but we need more time."

"I see."

Gu Weijing said, "The main reason is that all art-in-residence programs have deadlines for submitting their work."

The painter showed the other party a note that was stuck on his bookshelf: "I have to submit this work within 30 weeks; it is very important to me."

"Of course, of course. One hundred thousand euros, that's a big case."

The detective nodded.

He then wandered around the building from the first to the second floor, offering a few suggestions for improvement before exchanging pleasantries with the painter and bidding farewell.

"I have another question—which might be a bit of a layman's question."

The detective stood in front of the building's porch and hesitated for a moment.

"Please speak," Gu Weijing said, waiting.

"Regarding this painting—if the works for the art-in-residence program must be submitted before a certain deadline—then why can't you paint another one?"

He gestured the shape of a canvas.

“You could easily paint another one exactly the same,” he said.

"Yes, theoretically it's possible to do that."

Gu Weijing nodded. Then he shook his head—

"But it's still not quite the same."
-
After saying goodbye to the detective, Gu Weijing returned to his room. He no longer lived in the large student dormitory; the art academy had assigned him this old house, which had a total of nine rooms of various sizes, including a living room and a large studio on the first floor, as well as two bedrooms on the second floor.

He opened the wardrobe, picked out a coat, changed his clothes between the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the second floor, and left with his car keys.

Oh.

It's worth mentioning that, in addition to the studio and bedroom, this old-fashioned villa also has a rather tiny parking space, just the right size to park a small, compact hatchback.

Since moving here.

The young painter felt that the biggest change in his life was that he no longer had to squeeze through the school's small parking lot to find a parking space.

He started his yellow POLO and drove onto the highway as dusk settled in.

Gu Weijing glanced at his watch; it was 5:36 PM, and the destination wasn't far from the Academy of Fine Arts.

Actually, it's only two bus stops away, but he still isn't quite used to the German winter.

So before heading out, he hesitated for a moment between braving the cold wind and weaving through the evening rush hour traffic. In the end, Gu Weijing drove slowly into the sea of ​​cars, doing his part to address the increasingly unsolvable problem of evening rush hour traffic congestion in modern metropolises.

It's 6:15 in three minutes.

The pale yellow POLO finally managed to squeeze out of the traffic, turned into a side road, and finally stopped in front of a rectangular building with a glass facade.

"Hey, Gu, our great painter."

Get out of the car.

A man with high cheekbones and a light stubble walked over and patted his shoulder heavily.

"You finally came."

“Good evening, Mr. Kozens.” Gu Weijing nodded to the man, then looked behind him. “Good evening, Victor, Lily… good evening… ladies and gentlemen you don’t know.”

“That’s Ben, Paul, and Sophia.”

Kecens extended his hand and introduced the young men behind him to Gu Weijing one by one.

“Sophia and Paul are a year ahead of you, both students in the department, as is Ben, but he has already graduated and now runs a private gallery in Rome. Oh, by the way, Ben was an outstanding graduate of the first cohort of this master program. The first day I met him, I knew this kid would be the best of that batch.”

"Oh. Old man, your favorite student now is someone else, right?"

The man named Ben was the most mature-looking among them, appearing to be around 28 or 29 years old. He had a large, upturned nose that was so striking that all the other features on his face seemed superfluous.

“Look at his nickname—the great painter.”

This sounds like a complaint.

"Your teacher used to call you Benny, my little darling," a woman named Sophia teased from the side.

"See, that's the problem."

He said.

“Benny, little Benny… This name is not cool at all. Compared to this ‘great painter,’ it is far inferior.”

He reached out to shake hands with Gu Weijing.

"Everyone prefers the nickname 'great painter,' right?"

"Benny is also very cute."

Gu Weijing couldn't help but chuckle. He had never expected that a professor like Samuel Kertzens, the roaring emperor in the classroom and best known for his venomous spraying, would have such an adorable side in private.

"And your watch is really cool."

Gu Weijing grasped Ben's hand and gently rotated it.

Ben readily revealed his watch, a vintage Breguet timepiece with a grand feu enamel dial, modeled after a traditional pocket watch made by Breguet in 1782 for the Prince of Condé family.

Beneath the classic blue Breguet hands, in addition to the cursive "Breguet" lettering, there is the initials of his surname "Saskia," engraved on a crescent-shaped disc set in the center of the dial.

"Of course you'll have one too, great painter."

Ben patted him affectionately on the shoulder.

"What's a watch? Breguet would be vying to collaborate with you! After your first painting sold for a full million pounds, did you feel the loneliness of wealth?"

“More than one person has said this to me recently,” Gu Weijing replied.

"Has anyone told you about what's coming next?" Ben asked, half-jokingly and half-seriously. "With Miss Elena as your agent, conquering the world in a world-class gallery like the Hermès Gallery would seem like a lack of accomplishment?"

“Standing on the shoulders of giants, whatever you do, everyone will say, oh, that's the credit of giants. How about I try this? How about my gallery? ‘Saschia & Gu Gallery’. I’ll give you 50 percent of the shares right away, okay, an even bigger concession, I’m willing to put your name at the top.”

"The 'Gu Saskia' Gallery. Aren't you even a little bit tempted? Let the world see how you became a giant on your own!"

Everyone burst into laughter.

"Alright, the play is about to start, let's talk inside."

Mr. Kötzens waved his hand and, like a locomotive, led the way into the glass building on one side.

"It seems I have about a whole theatrical period to persuade him."

Ben said to Sophia beside him.

……

Do you know what the biggest difference is between the Hamburg State Opera and other opera houses in Germany, and even most of the oldest opera houses in Europe?

The three-tiered private room platform.

Mr. Kozens, with a small pair of binoculars hanging around his neck, asked everyone behind him.

“Gu?” Kecens looked at Gu Weijing.

Gu Weijing shook his head.

“I’m not quite sure, sir.”

"It's nothing, just a guess."

In private, Mr. Kozens seemed far more amiable than he appeared in class. "You don't need to be so reserved. Even if you answer incorrectly, I won't throw things in your face. If you wish."

Mr. Kozens was in a good mood among the students: "You can call me old man, just like Ben does."

"Its history is very long?"

Gu Weijing looked down at the stage.

"It is not a palace theater."

Lily—the junior student who was a year younger than Gu Weijing—answered first.

"Yes."

The professor nodded.

"The Hamburg State Opera was originally built in the 17th century and is one of the oldest and oldest opera houses in Germany, in theory."

"Why only in theory?" Sophia asked curiously.

"Because the original Hamburg Opera House was destroyed in bombing during World War II, what we see now are reconstructions from the post-war period. But that's not the point..."

"The truly important thing is just as you said."

"This is one of the few non-court opera houses in history."

(End of this chapter)