Almighty painter

Chapter 1045 The Glimmer of Frost

"You have no idea what prices his works are selling for now."

Mr. Kozens turned to look at his wife.

"The school's standard for accepting private gifts is 50 euros. If Gu Weijing made this vase himself, it would probably cost more than that, with an extra zero added to the end." The watercolor teacher twirled the small vase in her hand.

"I bought it from a pottery shop next to the school," Gu Weijing explained. "The packaging even has a department store logo on it!"

"Not attentive."

Kozens then offered a sharp critique.

“My wife spent two weeks figuring out tonight’s menu, and you wouldn’t even spend an afternoon burning a jar. You won’t get any apple pie later!”

"Giving it is wrong, not giving it is wrong too?" Gu Weijing said helplessly.

“You can send it, then I’ll sternly refuse you, and finally, you can write this story in your memoir,” Kozens joked.

As he spoke, the professor couldn't help but laugh at himself.

"By the way, congratulations! Your watercolor painting 'Winter' has been returned to its rightful owner."

“Yes,” the young man said.

Gu Weijing was prepared to paint another one exactly as it was, but the stolen watercolor painting "Winter" was still very fortunate to make it to the deadline for submitting works for the art project.

The story is long.

It's short, though.

It's nothing more than the standard procedure for art theft cases.

If one day Gu Weijing becomes even more famous than he is now, perhaps this theft case could be like Rembrandt's paintings that were lost and found again, and then lost again, and several books could be written about it. Perhaps interested writers could even add their own imaginative touches, mixing in various mysterious elements, religion, cryptography, and a bit of Sherlock Holmes-style mystery plots, and turn it into a bestseller like "The Da Vinci Code," and maybe even adapt it into a Hollywood movie.

Yang Dekang was really looking forward to it.

Old Yang told Gu Weijing that when a movie like this is made, he must make a cameo appearance as a cool and tough character. Ideally, he would be a reclusive master who only makes two appearances when the main characters in the case are facing a predicament, guiding them out of the fog.

If it's domineering enough, and has enough sexual tension.

He wouldn't mind being a cold-blooded and melancholic assassin.

"The key is to be cool!"

But the dramatic plot twists and turns in solving the case, and the detectives who lost their hair from working overtime all night, had little to do with Gu Weijing.

In short, it was nothing more than a petty thief who saw a news report in the newspaper and thought that Gu Weijing's paintings would be very valuable, so he smashed a window with a stone and climbed into the public art studio in the middle of the night.

It was easy to succeed.

After succeeding, he discovered that he had no way to sell it.

After hiding for several months, the thief tried to find a buyer on the dark web, but was caught red-handed by a federal detective posing as a buyer.

Compared to the thrilling, life-or-death confrontation with Brother Hao, the whole story, when traced back, is more like a Chaplin absurd black-and-white satirical film than a spy thriller.

The detective in charge of the case told Gu Weijing that, from the perspective of solving the case, finding a petty thief who commits a crime on a whim is not necessarily easier than finding a major international art smuggler who targets figures like Leonardo da Vinci and Rembrandt.

If the other party hadn't foolishly posted a search for buyers online, it might have taken the police quite some time to identify the target.

even--

"If he finds that there is no way to sell the artwork, and in a fit of rage throws the scroll into the Elbe, then whether you want to or not, you will probably have to paint it all over again."

and so.

Gu Weijing didn't necessarily need that painting to participate in the Master Project, or to win an award in the art program. But it's certainly something to celebrate that "Winter" managed to meet the deadline for participating in the Master Project.

Just like gold leaf adorning a picture frame.

This little episode has no impact on the work itself, but on the other hand, it adds to the legendary nature of the work.

There are a thousand roses in the world, and the time you've spent on this one makes it so unique. Mr. Sloth once quoted this to Gu Weijing in a podcast episode.

The host sarcastically asked him if he truly believed that such a unique rose existed in the world, and that it was unlike any other rose in the world.

Is insisting on such "sacredness" a rather boring thing?

Time passes.

If that podcast episode were recorded now, and if the conversation from a few months ago were to happen again, Gu Weijing might use this painting to answer Mr. Sloth.

Maybe so.

Even decades or centuries later, if that machine that answers all the questions of the human world is actually created, AI will be able to draw a work a thousand times and copy it a thousand times in an instant. When you look at each work under a microscope, you will find that even the molecular structure that makes up the work is exactly the same as the original.

If the so-called art industry truly existed back then, then this work, precisely because of its experience and because it carries a different story, might still be seen differently by people compared to the other thousand paintings.

In the eyes of God or a super AI, such differences do not exist.

It only exists in people's eyes.

Because humans... are inherently such boring creatures. The vast and boundless universe and the omnipotent gods don't need to prove who they are, nor do they need any kind of proof of their existence.

Only people.

Talent is needed.

At this point in time, for Gu Weijing, and for the painting titled "Winter," only one final goal remained—

They won the Master Project.

When Gu Weijing put on the Grand Feu enamel mechanical watch that Breguet had customized for him, with the initials of Gu Weijing's name engraved on the dial.

His four years of university life, and his eventful and eventful experience... are all coming to a close.

But what truly completes our lives may not only be our university years and our exhibition experiences.

The agency contract between Gu Weijing and Anna Elena officially ended last month.

They did not renew their contract.

Neither of them signed a new contract or announced a new schedule. Anna became the head of the family museum, but she has yet to leave Hamburg.

They all seemed to be waiting for something.

Gu Weijing recalled the agreement he had made with his agent in Vienna.

Perhaps... they can make up for that belated dinner that should have been shared at the opening of their first solo exhibition.
-
Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4:16: "Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." Martin Luther offered a profound interpretation of this passage...

This house has a separate large dining room.

The professor enjoyed hosting family dinners at his residence. A group of people sat around the long dining table. In addition to Gu Weijing and Mr. Kozens' family, several other classmates who had gone to the Hamburg Opera together also came.

The ladies sat to one side.

The men sat on the other side.

Lily was holding a fork and whispering rapidly to Mr. Kozens's youngest daughter, occasionally bursting into clear laughter. Mr. Kozens was tilting his head and chatting with Ben, who ran an art gallery, about German literature.

The occasional clinking of knives, forks, and bowls, though slightly noisy, would likely be considered exceptionally warm and inviting by anyone present at that moment.

Gu Weijing sat at the table, poking at the croissant on his plate with his fork, and humming a strangely structured and obscure German poem.

"A man lives in a house; he plays with snakes and he writes."

"He wrote back to Germany at dusk, your blonde Margaret."

"..."

Four years of living in Central Europe, the hometown of Michael Schumacher and Mercedes-Benz, may not have honed Gu Weijing's reverse parking skills to the point where he could park in one go.

Gu Weijing's German proficiency has undoubtedly improved significantly.

When Gu Weijing first arrived in Hamburg, he was only at the level of saying "hello," "goodbye," and "thank you."

He couldn't distinguish between Martin Luther and Martin Luther King Jr. When Miss Elena told him in her German class that Martin Luther was the most important founder of modern German, Gu Weijing was initially puzzled as to why the black social activist who was shot would be a German expert.

Until now.

He has begun to appreciate even the most obscure and difficult-to-understand surrealist German poetry.

"We drink the black milk of dawn at night."

……

"Let's drink, let's drink."

"A man lives in a house; he plays with snakes and he writes."

"He wrote back to Germany at dusk, to you, blonde Margaret."

"..."

As Gu Weijing ate his bread, he softly recited Paul Celan's masterpiece, "Death Fugue," one of the most important works by a German poet of the past half-century.

Paul Celan, the solitary figure who perished in the Seine, is one of the poets most respected by Gu Weijing.

The surrealist techniques employed by the poet in his poems allow the imagery to leap constantly between different words. At first glance, it sounds like a painting that is very difficult to understand but has extremely beautiful brushstrokes.

This poem is extremely musical.

The rhymes and syllables of those German words, when pronounced by Gu Weijing, sounded like a tinkling little tune.

Gu Weijing felt someone gently kicking his shin.

He looked up and glanced at it.

He realized it was Sophia across the table. The young man looked up at Sophia, who raised her chin slightly.

“Mr. Kertzens was just talking to you.” She mouthed.

Gu Weijing turned his head to the side.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's alright. Great painters naturally need time to contemplate."

Mr. Kötzens raised his glass, and this time, he didn't seem to be joking.

"Though the exterior is damaged, the interior grows newer every day." The professor raised his glass of wine. "Isn't that also a reflection of your work 'Winter'?"

"Thank you, sir."

Gu Weijing paused for a moment, then nodded.

He certainly knew what Professor Kötzens meant; the painting had been rolled up, put into a paint barrel, and hidden under the garage floor, where it got damp during Hamburg's rainy season.

But that's why.

It has also acquired a new meaning.

“I’ve always said that the professor really likes your paintings.”

Lily raised an eyebrow and said half-jokingly, "I hope the professor won't be too picky about my work next year. For Gu, it's like the exterior is ruined but the interior is getting better every day. For me, it's like, the painting is so bad, I might as well throw it in the trash."

Kind laughter echoed around the dining table.

“It’s not just me; I’ve seen the preliminary score sheets from the art project judges, and everyone has given your work high praise.”

By this time.

Professor Kozens also revealed a rare tender side.

This isn't exactly shocking news; what would truly impress everyone is a student who was at the bottom of the class suddenly achieving an unbelievably high score on the final exam.

Gu Weijing?
He was already the best student in this art program, and his achievements in art far surpassed those of all his classmates.

Every student at the table had expected this outcome.

Everyone immediately raised their glasses.

"cheers!"

"Cheers, congratulations to our Masters Program champion this year," Ben said.

Gu Weijing looked very calm. He and Professor Kezens' youngest daughter were the only two people drinking juice at the table. He raised his glass of sweet orange juice.

"cheers."

Gu Weijing said.
-
After dinner.

Mr. Kozens' wife went to the kitchen to clear the dishes, and he, a meticulous and gentle man, went to help. Gu Weijing walked up to the professor.

"Ah."

"Mr. Kozens?"

“Samuel, you can just call me Samuel if you want,” Kozens waved his hand.

“No, I’ll still call you Mr. Kozens, Professor,” Gu Weijing said. “I’d like to talk to you?”

"Oh, even great painters have problems they want me to point out?"

Ke Censer commented.

He chuckled, looking nothing like the notorious, sharp-tongued troll who could scare children into silence in the art academy.

now.

The way he looked at Gu Weijing was no different from how kind elders would look at their successful juniors.

The professor spread his hands and shrugged.

He indicated that Gu Weijing could ask whatever he wanted, since he was right there.

"I want to talk."

Gu Weijing didn't speak immediately; he repeated himself.

"In private."

He added.

Kecens paused for a moment, then turned to look at Gu Weijing for a few seconds before spreading his hands.

"why not?"

He didn't get up immediately, but waved his hand.

"Sweetie, why don't you two go outside and play for a while with your sister? Okay?"

The German man said to his daughter.

Neither Kecens nor Gu Weijing spoke; they stood silently, watching the women leave.

As Lily skipped away, hand in hand with the professor's daughter, the youthful and cheerful atmosphere was shut out the moment the sliding door of the restaurant was closed.

The room fell silent instantly.

"Do you mind? It's not easy to sneak out a cigarette at home when no one is watching."

Professor Kötzenberger pulled a cigarette case from under a cabinet. Germany has one of the highest smoking rates in Europe, but Kötzenberger generally doesn't smoke in front of his students.

"As you please."

Gu Weijing said.

He watched as Kozens opened the window next to him, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled thick smoke.

"Generally speaking... I don't answer this question from students."

"but."

"Okay, let's make an exception for today."

Before Gu Weijing could even speak, Kecens probably already knew what the student wanted to ask him in private.

"If you really want to know, I just looked at the rating sheet the day before yesterday. The final results still need to be compiled, but there shouldn't be any major changes."

“Your painting ‘Winter’ is the winner of this year’s Master Project.”

“Congratulations, Gu Weijing. I know you must really want it.” Ke Cens smiled. “It won’t be the most important honor you receive, but to gain the approval of all the judges among so many students is still an extremely rare honor.”

Kozens smiled.

For a moment.

A joyful smile appeared on Gu Weijing's face.

Kozens smiled, and Gu Weijing smiled too; the atmosphere in the restaurant was harmonious and warm.

but.

It was only for a fleeting moment.

Gu Weijing did not immediately respond to the professor's words. After a moment, the smile on his face slowly faded until it disappeared completely.

The student sighed softly.

then.

Mr. Kozens's smile seemed to vanish as well.

He didn't sigh, but looked out the window, took another deep drag on his cigarette, and his face disappeared into the night and smoke.

"I meant it wasn't that."

Gu Weijing spoke up.

He spoke in a slow, clear tone: "What I really wanted to say was... Mr. Kozens, I came to see you because—"

"I personally want to withdraw from this year's Masters Program."

He said.

The restaurant fell into dead silence.

No one could have imagined that this was what Gu Weijing wanted to talk to Professor Kezens about.

Even if there are ten thousand different and bizarre possibilities for this dialogue between students and teachers to unfold, "Gu Weijing wants to withdraw from the Master Project" does not belong to any of those ten thousand possibilities.

Professor Kozens, however, was not surprised.

He sat by the window like a statue, puffing on his cigarette as he looked out at the Hamburg night. The orange glow of the burning cigarette illuminated the dark blue vase that Gu Weijing had given to Mr. Kozens, making it appear strangely cold.

This is probably quite similar to Professor Kozens' inspiration to express coldness with bright, burning colors.

It shimmered with a frost-like light.

"Do you know, Gu?"

Kozens no longer called Gu Weijing by the nickname "Great Painter," but called him by his real name.

"It might sound a bit cheesy, but... I really wish you had come to talk to me privately today because you wanted to find out if you really did become the champion of the arts program. Not..."

The watercolor professor shrugged.

"Did you guess I'm here to withdraw from the art project?" Gu Weijing asked. "Guessed?"

Kozens was deep in thought, his forehead bowed.

“There was a tiny bit of a possibility that crossed my mind when you said you wanted to talk to me, but I still think it’s ridiculous.”

"but."

Kozens gave a cold laugh.

He took another deep breath, and a large amount of air rushed in, making the cigarette butt so bright it seemed to burst into sparks.

Whether you believe it or not.

"Gu—for the classics."

Kozens read out Gu Weijing's full name.

"The moment I saw you sitting in the car today, I fucking thought, you little bastard... you're going to get me into big trouble."

Kozens has finally reverted to his old ways as a troll.
-
"Your hunch was quite accurate."

Gu Weijing gave a wry smile. "I was indeed hesitant at that time."

The young man remained seated behind the steering wheel, gazing into the distance, lost in thought, until Professor Kozens walked over and knocked on the car window.

Gu Weijing was indeed lost in thought at that time.

He was indeed a little nervous.

Unlike what the Germans imagined, Gu Weijing did not dwell on the thrilling and exciting maneuver of reversing into the parking space.

He was hesitating, wondering whether he should attend the dinner party that evening or simply finish his business briefly and turn to leave.

"It was I who fucking recruited you into the master project..."

"Kertzens said."

He could suddenly fly into a rage during a peaceful conversation and smash his wristwatch in someone's face.

He could also remain remarkably calm while uttering those furious words, using a tranquil tone to insert various insults into different parts of his speech.

They should naturally be there, like the subject, verb, and object in a standard sentence; without any one of them, it would be incomplete.

Professor Kozens' standard sentence structure has four parts.

Subject, predicate, and object.

And SciiBe! (shit), Mist! (manure), Verdammt! (damn it!), Arsch! (butt)...

Those German "fucks," along with their various tenses and variations in masculine and feminine forms, seamlessly insert themselves into conversations, revealing a richness of meaning that the word cannot bear in different contexts.

It is a masterpiece of linguistics.

"You fucking spent four years in school. And then you fucking drew a picture."

"Your painting got fucking lost first."

"And then the fuck was found again."

"After all this fucking mess, you're finally going to fucking win the whole arts category."

"And then, you fucking come to me and tell me you're fucking done playing."

"You fucking have to quit this art project."

Gu Weijing listened quietly as Mr. Kezens succinctly summarized his four years of university life with a long string of "fucks, fucks, fucks."

The young man thought about it.

He nodded in agreement.

"That's roughly it, Professor!"

"That's what the young man said."

“Why get so agitated? Calm down, Mr. Kozens.” He spoke as if comforting a manic patient.

"You want me to calm down?"

Samuel Kertzens turned to look at Gu Weijing, his eyes wide as he stared at the young man's face, his eyes bulging like copper bells.

"Do you know how damn embarrassing this puts me, and the entire art academy, in?"

"Do you know how fucking difficult this is for me?"

“You fucking tell me to calm down,” he said in an incredulous tone.

Gu Weijing remained silent, but he also looked directly into Mr. Kezens' eyes with calm eyes, and did not look away because of the other party's anger.

The two men stared at each other like two restless, agitated bulls scratching the floor with their hooves.

finally.

Surprisingly, it was Professor Kozens, who appeared to be the more furious one, who was the first to look away.

"It's because of Viktor, isn't it?"

"That's what the professor said."

Tonight's dinner looked exceptionally harmonious, with everyone chatting happily. Every one of Professor Kozens's "favorite" students, every one of the students he had taken to the Hamburg Opera, was present.

Except for Victor.

Not only did Victor not come.

After moving to the small art studio that the school had specially assigned to him, Gu Weijing hadn't seen Viktor for quite some time.

It wasn't until recently that he heard news of his former roommate. As far as Gu Weijing knew, at this age when graduation was approaching, Viktor seemed to be on the verge of dropping out of school.
-
"Creative artists are always lonely, and the world can never help them."

"Perhaps...pain is the essence of life."

—From *Picasso: A Biography*
-
Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

If those stage plays about happiness tell the same story every time the curtain rises, then those stage plays about misfortune are simply repeating the same story templates over and over again.

In the arts industry.

The story templates are nothing more than a few that can be counted on one's fingers, either the most helpless tragedies caused by poverty, or the farces full of extravagance and debauchery caused by wealth.

Or arrogance.

Or arrogance.

Or they may wallow in self-pity.

Or arrogant and disdainful of everyone.

Whether it's the shooting of John Lennon or the car accident involving Pollock, these incidents highlight the fragility of humanity in the face of sudden tragedies.

Or just as Zweig predicted long ago—

Facing the roadside gift, he was unaware of the hidden price tag. What Viktor encountered was nothing more than a similar farce.

At the very beginning of this play.

Viktor thought he was about to become rich.

Shortly after the performance of Mozart at the Hamburg Opera, an international art dealer from Luxembourg approached him, hoping to become his agent for related works.

Let me emphasize this again.

Art is a poor profession; if we were to add an extra modifier before the adjective "poor," it would be "extremely poor."

The arts industry is an extremely poor industry.

Don't be fooled by the billions or tens of billions of dollars circulating in this market every year. Painters can casually paint a couple of strokes and sell them for hundreds of thousands or millions, seemingly ripping people off even more aggressively than the Federal Reserve. But all this glory belongs to a tiny minority.

Just like Gu Weijing said to Mr. Sloth.

He is neither Van Gogh nor Balzac.

In the lottery game, he was among the top 0.000001% who won the jackpot on the very first draw.

Why is there a common impression that only children from wealthy families study art?

Because this industry is truly poor.

All the collectors, gallery owners, media, and exhibition organizers would fawn over you, telling an art dealer how beautiful your hat was. The dealer would then rush to London overnight to find a tailor to order a hat for you, and then rush back overnight with the same amount of money. You would accept the hat, say thank you, and then tell the dealer to get lost… All these privileges and prestige belong to people like Gu Weijing, who are in the top “0.000001%”.

How rich are these people?

Those nobodies are just as poor.

Let alone nobodys, even Picasso, who was once in the "0.000001%", had to scrape together his last penny and the cheapest third-class tickets to squeeze his way to Paris.

When I said I was hungry, I really was hungry.

If you say you'll be a homeless person, then be a homeless person.

Life never gives you false illusions; it's all about the real thing.

Even for students graduating from top art academies, finding a job is certainly not difficult, and finding a well-paid job is not too difficult either.

One can imagine making a living purely as a painter, and the kind of painter who can paint whatever he wants.

That's a bit difficult.

Of course, you can go out and have fun in a bar and tell everyone you meet, "I am an artist."

It certainly looks cool and classy. But can "coolness" and classiness really put food on the table? Will our artists be broke while bragging?

The hardships and bitterness involved are truly unknown to outsiders.

But then again, in the European art market, there always seems to be a "benefactor" with a keen eye for talent. After leaving home and arriving in Paris penniless, Picasso's luck turned around within two months, and he found an art dealer willing to sign him for a fixed salary of 150 francs a month.

From that moment on.

Picasso never experienced poverty in his entire life.

When the art dealer placed the offer in front of Victor, which included a fixed monthly salary of 27,000 euros plus a percentage of sales revenue.

Victor immediately felt that he was about to have his "Picasso moment" in his life.

27,000 euros!

This is much higher than 150 francs in the 1920s. Some niche boutique galleries may have artists with ridiculously high average incomes, but even at galleries like Herbert Maes, the average income of an artist is definitely not 27,000 euros.

Viktor was moved to tears.

then.

Victor rejected the contract.

He wasn't stupid. After a brief contact, he seemed to sense that something was off about the contract. After learning a little about the inside story, he decisively dropped it.

Next, some of Victor's exhibited paintings raised many questions about the teaching methods of art academies throughout Europe.

His works are filled with a wealth of imagery.

Medusa, who can petrify people when they gaze upon her; money laundering; tombstones; a black pond reflecting death; poplar trees sinking into the water; begging for the dead…

The entire work is so somber that it's almost impossible to open your eyes.
-
"Victor's work was not selected for the Master Project exhibition due to reasons related to his painting techniques..."

"Really?"

Gu Weijing countered with a question.

"Why do I hear that it's because, in his police statement, Victor accused the money laundering case of being connected to a certain Hamburg state legislator?"

"Money laundering case? Did he tell you about it himself?"

This time, Kecens didn't immediately curse his mother in anger. Instead, he thought about it carefully and asked Gu Weijing in return.

"No."

Gu Weijing shook his head.

“You know, Victor hasn’t contacted me in a long time. But he’s involved in fake transactions, using huge amounts of cash to make payments, falsifying transaction records, and hiding assets in places like Luxembourg or Switzerland.”

"Does that sound a little familiar?"

Gu Weijing said, "I'm not kidding, I really do know a bit about these things."

"You may not know this, but a similar contract was once placed in front of me. So, I'd like to know if this is really true. Mr. Kozens, you've always been a very good teacher; could you answer this question?"

"How the hell would I know the answer?"

Kozens looked a little agitated. He tossed the cigarette butt in his hand into the ceramic bottle next to him and shook it repeatedly.

"However, I've been in this industry for so long, I've heard both the truth and the lies. It depends on how you look at it."

Kozens's tone lowered.

He stopped saying "fuck" to himself.

"You know."

“This is a transnational art project in Europe, and in some aspects, the school cannot directly decide everything. You can think that Viktor’s paintings are not so popular. It’s not my fault, it’s not even his fault, it’s just part of the art industry as a whole.”

"Even truly excellent works don't necessarily get the chance to receive attention."

You have to accept this.

"Of course. You can think of it in a darker light. This is also part of the entire art industry. Bach, Beethoven, they all experienced similar things, more or less, throughout history. Not everyone in the world is as lucky as Mozart."

"Kertzens said."

You have to accept that too.

"You always need to use something... to exchange for greatness."

Gu Weijing said.

"Do you know what I'm thinking—The Magic Flute."

Do you remember that opera performance?

Gu Weijing asked.

"of course."

Professor Kozens said.

“I remember Viktor was sitting next to me that day, and how many people were actually watching the performance attentively in the opera box that day?”

Gu Weijing asked.

"Everyone was chattering away, each with their own ideas and desires. Then, at the end of the performance, everyone clapped loudly and exclaimed, 'Wow, that was truly beautiful art!'"

"so fun."

"Anyway, nobody was listening. Would it make any difference whether they were singing Mozart or Molière on stage?"

Gu Weijing said.

"There are probably still differences."

"The Magic Flute".

Gu Weijing recited it again.

Having spent five years in Central Europe, Gu Weijing found it difficult to adapt not only to Germany's highways but also to its operas.

Gu Weijing believed that it must be an extremely beautiful performance.

but.

Looking back now, I've gradually forgotten those beautiful and soaring lyrics. All I remember are some vague melodies and a few silhouettes of the prince and his shepherd friend facing the Queen of Evil on stage.

"I remember. That performance told a story—"

Gu Weijing recalled.

"No matter what illusions you face, no matter what lyrics you hear, no matter what temptations you experience, if you want to reach the destination, you must remain silent."

“Victor actually knew this.”

"He's always been a very intelligent person with an extremely clear life plan. When we used to share a dorm room, he would say there was a line there, and if you crossed it, you'd become 'That guy' in other people's eyes. But Viktor would say he didn't want to become 'That guy.'"

"Not a good person, not a bad person, but 'That guy.' Who is 'That guy'?"

He said that in the United States, it was once believed that only Black people who diligently polished shoes on the street were considered loyal and good Black people. White society, on the other hand, believed that Black people were incapable of doing any job other than polishing shoes.

Gu Weijing said.

“He said that teachers in schools these days say all the time that this is good and that is good, that university life is precious and free, and that you can do whatever you want. Viktor told me that this may not be wrong.”

"But don't believe it."

"Because for those white students, they always seem to have countless choices, they seem to have endless time to waste. But... for people of color, your choices will always be far fewer than theirs."

You must always strive to improve.

"You must never make a mistake."

"You have to be better than good in order to get what you want."

Gu Weijing spread his hands.

“You see, Viktor has always been very clear about what he wants most, hasn’t he?” Gu Weijing smiled.

"But on that very day..."

“I remember after the opera performance, it was Williams who played the entire violin piece. It was you, the always strict Professor Samuel Kertzens, who told us that we were the best students in the art academy, that we had earned the opportunity to freely express ourselves and to paint things that could truly move people.”

Gu Weijing recalled Professor Kozens' tone at that time.

"Did you say that?"

"That's what the young man asked."

Mr. Kozens remained silent.

“At that moment, Victor believed it, but it was still just the banshee’s noise.”

"German art is cold art, art about death. When I was painting 'Winter,' I suddenly read this sentence somewhere."

Gu Weijing said.

"At the time, I didn't understand the meaning of that sentence. What did it mean to be art about coldness, art about death?"

“Until one day, I reread Faust carefully from beginning to end,” the young man said softly.

(End of this chapter)