Almighty painter

Chapter 1051 Old Newspapers and Old Harmonica

Pay attention!
The woman on the sofa is named Xiaomei. Her beloved dog was just bullied by someone else's chubby cat, and she is very unhappy now.

that moment.

King Awang was only 0.000001 millimeters away from August's food bowl, but in a minute, August was about to turn the tables.

"Putting everything else aside, such a fat tabby cat will suffer from joint and lumbar spine problems when it gets older."

Don't you want it to stay with you for a few more years?

Miss Elena spoke in a flat tone.

She bypassed the world-renowned mystery of why Awang didn't have fatty liver, which had baffled the veterinarian, and instead threw the question back at Gu Weijing.

August nuzzled Anna's chest with his big head and licked his mistress's wrist with his tongue, looking adorably clumsy.

Wang!
This is why dogs, on average, have a much higher intelligence than cats.
Springer Spaniels have long mastered the ultimate skills of being a top-notch licker – don't be afraid, as long as you lick well, Miss Elena will take action.

Auguste was no match for Awang.

But Anna successfully occupied the moral high ground in her dialogue with Gu Weijing.

"You can't keep letting it do whatever it wants, however it wants."

Seeing that Gu Weijing was finally rendered speechless, the woman gave her final, sharp critique with satisfaction—

"That's extremely irresponsible of you!"

"From now on, Awang's daily food intake should be at least half of what it is now..."

"And it needs more exercise. It used to be such a lively cat, now it's so lazy..."

"You can't let anyone carry you everywhere! You're not allowed to carry it when we go out without my permission..."

"If you exercise well during the day, you can eat a little something in the evening, just like August, but only a small plate..."

Gu Weijing shifted his gaze to the side.

He looked at the cat, who was still unaware that the world had suddenly become cruel, and was happily eating its meal with its head down between the plates.

unconsciously.

Those days of unbridled joy and hearty drinking are over.

Life has reached the point where you absolutely must lose weight.

He sighed.

"Alright, let it finish this meal, and start again tomorrow," he said sympathetically.

"Do not."

Anna shook her head and said in a cold and indifferent tone, "From now on, if you eat this much at night, it will be even harder to digest tomorrow. It will lose half a pound every week, so it can lose two pounds a month."

The woman also looked at the fat cat.

"This is a long-term task."

war!
……

Meow, meow, meow meow meow.

A bite of bone broth, a bite of beef jerky—life is so wonderful!

Meow, meow, meow meow meow.

A bite of bone broth powder, a sip of fresh milk—life is so wonderful!

Meow, meow, meow meow meow.

The orange tabby cat lay on the cushion, burped contentedly, and said, "The silly dog ​​won't eat, but Awang will!" It wanted to eat what August ate, and it also wanted to eat what August didn't eat.

It's all mine!

This is Awang, this is the king of this place.

Lying on August's mat, using August's plate, licking August's milk.

Life is so beautiful!

Suddenly, the tabby cat felt the cat chain behind its shoulder and cheekbone tighten, and a force pulled it in the opposite direction from its beloved beef and bone broth rice.

"Meow!"

Awang stood on its two hind legs, its front paws flailing wildly as if trying to protect its dinner. It turned its head back to look.

Little Gu has rebelled!

Protect the emperor! Protect the emperor!

The woman bent down and dragged the plate away, placing a small bowl beside it. She gently poured less than a quarter of the contents of the plate, thought for a moment, and then reached out and picked out a few kibbles of dry cat food from the bowl.

"Take it to a bath."

“I just asked the vet.”

He said that tabby cats are a breed that is more prone to obesity, and if not controlled, they can easily eat all day long. A healthy adult tabby cat should consume about 200 kcal per day, which is about 60 to 70 grams.

"There should be slightly fewer for couch potato cats, and even fewer for cats that want to lose weight."

"This cat is both a couch potato and wants to lose weight."

"So from now on, just feed it this much each day, and that will be enough. We need to weigh it every day and create a line graph showing the weight change."

Miss Elena said to Gu Weijing.

Awang watched as the caregiver came over and took away its midnight snack. The cat couldn't possibly understand what the woman was saying, but it might have sensed something from the coldness emanating from Anna.

The old days.

With that feeling, she barged into Awang's territory and took away Awang's daily blissful buffet life.

or.

The mere sight of the caregiver carrying away a large bowl of freeze-dried beef from in front of him was enough to break Awang's heart.

"Meow."

Poisonous woman!

Poisonous woman!

No, you wicked woman! Please, at least let it finish this meal!

August watched as Awang, who was jumping around and meowing, was dragged away by a mixed doubles of men and women. He grinned, wagged his tail, and leisurely strolled to his food plate.

He licked the milk little by little.

In this chaotic 'world war,' a peaceful corner has been found.
-
In the first year of Duke Wen's reign, in the tenth month of winter, Gong Jia was besieged as King Cheng. The king requested to eat bear paws and died.

"I won't listen!"

The historian Auguste remarked, "Bear paws are hard to cook, woof."
-
A few months later.

Germany.

Lower Saxony.

The open-air café next to the train tracks was already quite crowded.

They appeared to be of varying ages. The young white-collar worker was typing away on the keyboard of his starry-colored Macbook Air, his brow slightly furrowed. Beside him sat a cappuccino, a duffel bag, and a portable microphone bearing the letters ZDF (Zone Germany).

The middle-aged man sitting against the wall was much more relaxed, holding a professional-looking camera equipped with a white telephoto lens, pointing it at the distant forest, and waiting patiently.

He wasn't actually taking pictures; he just wanted to pass the time while waiting.

Whenever a bird takes flight in the forest, he makes a soft "Tu" sound. If he doesn't have some chewing gum left, he might be a hunting enthusiast in his spare time.

Only once or twice, when a large greylag goose or even a mullet takes flight in the woods, will the uncle actually press the shutter.

Occasionally, besides observing the birds, the uncle who picks up a full-frame camera will also turn his attention to the other side of the open-air cafe, pushing the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes with his fingers, trying to find the corresponding face in the news he has seen before.

A man was sitting alone in a corner, and he had ordered two drinks at the table.

Europeans love to drink alcohol, and this coffee shop, like some coffee shops in Europe, offers alcoholic beverages.

The man ordered a black coffee with milk but no extra sugar. Across the table was a cocktail with a straw, and bright red cherries floated on the lemon-colored surface of the drink.

He looked like he was waiting for someone.

of course.

The man knew that everyone at the open-air café by the railway in Marin County, Lower Saxony, that morning, including himself, had received a message and were waiting for someone.

This man, like the cocktail in the glass, possesses a unique charm refined by time.

Not only because it was summer in Germany, but he also rarely wore a neat three-piece suit, his leather shoes were polished to a shine, almost like a mirror reflecting his face when he looked down, and the buttons on his cuffs were fastened meticulously.

same.

It was also because, at the very moment when the second decade of the 21st century had already passed, this man was actually reading newspapers on the coffee shop's reading rack, newspapers whose decorative function probably outweighed their practical function.

His entire face and most of his body were obscured by large sections of the newspaper.

From the uncle's perspective, one can only see that the man has a straight back, occasionally turning a page or two, and exudes a calm yet resolute demeanor.

He sat with everyone in the café. But his presence seemed to instantly transport this humble corner of the shop to a café near Place Saint-Michel in mid-20th-century Paris, a place frequented by intellectual elites and intellectuals.

Even though most of the coffee drinkers here don't know each other.

You can also sense someone's uniqueness simply by their demeanor.

"It's so...so...so...old-school!"

The uncle admired it in his heart.

Seemingly relying on his keen intuition, he sensed the gaze directed at him. The other person put down the newspaper, turned his head, and looked at him with an inquisitive gaze.

That was the first time he could clearly see the other person's face.

Just as he had imagined, the person behind the newspaper was an elderly gentleman. For a young person in their teens, twenties, or even thirties to strike such a pose seemed overly affected and pretentious.

But for the old gentleman, whose unique temperament, both relaxed and firm, has been tempered by time like an old newspaper, he does not appear old or pretentious.

Everything happened at just the right time.

That was an Asian.

He wore thin-rimmed brown glasses on his nose and an old-fashioned British newsboy cap with the brim pulled down slightly, just covering his forehead, and gave the uncle a gentle smile.

The uncle's heart skipped a beat.

He was touched by the gentle power contained in that smile, and subconsciously grabbed the camera. Then he hesitated, unsure whether it was appropriate to press the shutter in front of him out of politeness.

The old man also saw the camera in the uncle's hand; a sharp light flashed behind the light brown frame.

He examined it for a moment, then finally nodded and gave a thumbs-up in this direction—a smile of mutual attraction between fellow birdwatching enthusiasts.

The uncle couldn't help but laugh.

He felt a sense of relief, as if he had been recognized by his seniors.

The photographer grabbed the camera, not for any other reason than to capture this touching moment in life.

Just at this time.

The railway next to the open-air café suddenly trembled slightly, a sign that a locomotive was about to pass by.

"cool--"

"twitter--"

"Cool—chatter—cool-chatter-cool-chatter."

"Cool, cool, cool."

The gradually clear sound of the railway tracks was like a starting gun, instantly shattering the tranquil and relaxing atmosphere of the open-air café.

People turned around and stood up.

The office worker closed his laptop, while the reporter grabbed the microphone next to him like a gun.

Even the middle-aged man immediately shifted his attention, picked up the full-frame camera, turned the dial to M mode, and checked the exposure aperture and shutter speed parameters one last time.

The approaching train startled the birds in the forest, and flocks of colorful birds took flight from the direction the train was coming from. The uncle, who had just been very enthusiastic about shooting birds, was now completely unmoved.

He gripped the camera, resting his elbows on the table surface for stable image stabilization.

He was as quiet as a hunter crouching in the grass.

Only that old gentleman.

Amidst an atmosphere that was either noisy, busy, or tense, he remained motionless.

He calmly folded the newspaper and placed it on the table, straightened the cuffs of his sleeves, and leaned back against the fabric back of the moon chair.

The old man watched the sunrise and the birds fly by while slowly sipping his bitter coffee with milk.

Like a grand master, profound and majestic.

……

Several tens of seconds later.

The slow-moving train, belching out large amounts of smoke, finally came into view. It gradually slowed down and finally stopped at the makeshift platform opposite the coffee shop.

The entire train and track project is not part of the Deutsche Bahn (DB) system, but rather belongs to the assets of the newly built museum.

As a tourism resource that complements the entire museum.

Saxony agreed to renovate the light railway, which runs for several dozen kilometers along the Reine River in northern Germany, from Parthensen to Marienburg, according to the plans of the Kingdom of Hanover in the 1850s, as part of the "19th-century tourism".

The Elena family also pulled out a train that had been sealed away for a long time from the warehouse.

Yes.

That's right.

Elena's family owns a train.

For 19th-century Europeans, trains were an essential part of daily life, and for European noble families who wanted to maintain good relations with the emperor, having common interests was very important.

The women opened a salon.

Aside from hunting together, the men would go yachting, participate in sailing races, or ride trains together.

A family-owned luxury train has always been a symbol of status. Moreover, their family made a fortune in Europe by partnering with others to build railways and even held shares in major European railway companies.

Besides the steam yacht named "Edelweiss," the family's other big toys also include this four-section train, which has now been completely refurbished and put to use.

of course.

No matter how much it evokes 19th-century charm, modern trains can't be pulled by those old steam engines that shovel coal into a furnace. The museum did indeed have this idea when it was first built: to completely preserve the original character of that era.

However, it cannot pass environmental regulations.

and so.

The thing at the very front that's gushing out steam is actually a modern, modified tractor unit; it's just spraying water vapor.

Although you can now reach the area where Marien Castle is located via the A7 motorway in Saxony, after exiting the motorway, you can drive a short distance along a state highway to get there.

Tourists with ample time will still enjoy taking a leisurely ride on this vintage train from Parthenon.

The train stopped.

These small stations have no complicated platforms and are entirely in the style of 19th-century rural stations, where passengers disembark one by one.

The train door is on the other side of the railway.

Just as the newspaper in the old man's hand in the corner blocked the uncle's probing gaze, this train with the Elena family crest in cursive script on its amber carriages also blocked the probing gaze of everyone here.

No matter how anxious or curious people are.

From reporters with microphones to middle-aged men with cameras, everyone could only crane their necks and wait patiently.

at this time.

A melodious sound came from across the railway. The sound was beautiful and mellow, which made the busy and tense people in the coffee shop pause in surprise.

The middle-aged man holding the camera's zoom ring quickly turned his face and looked at the old man in the corner.

Somehow.

The sound reminded the photographer of the old man.

If the old man in the hat possessed a demeanor that was firm yet with a touch of relaxation, then so too did the music.

Its clear tone carries a slight huskiness.

Like a weathered old man leaning against the saddle by a campfire in the sunset, playing a solitary tune on his harmonica, a tune meant only for one person.

Correct!
This is the sound of a harmonica, but not the blues harmonica that is common nowadays; it's a very old-fashioned, retro harmonica.

"It's so... so, so, so old-school!"

Listening to that Scottish country-style music, the middle-aged man couldn't help but utter the exact same sentiment once again.

The old man reading the newspaper merely gave the impression of being transported back to Paris in the last century, displaying a style that was at most from the late 19th century, or at most the 20th century.

And such sunshine, trains, and the sound of a harmonica.

It immediately pushes the timeline back to the American West during the later stages of the Civil War. It was an era of get-rich-quick dreams, Western fever, the gold rush, and later, the era represented by John D. Rockefeller, one of the richest men in human history, who founded Standard Oil.

That era was also represented by notorious bandits, train robbers, cowboys, bounty hunters, and small-town sheriffs.

It's the era represented by Billy the Kid and Detective Pinkton.

People drew their guns and fired at each other at midday; the one who shot first won justice, and the one who shot last died.

It is said.

That's what some of the most flamboyant and legendary gunslingers in the West used to do. They would take a train to a station in a small town, where their enemies would already be lying in wait.

The legendary gunslinger got off the train.

He stood on the opposite side of the track, slowly and deliberately playing an impromptu harmonica tune.

That sound, mingled with the train whistle as it started moving, would be the last sound his enemy ever heard in his life.

Westerners call that sound "the whistle of hell".

Because as the train passed by.

The enemy would stagger and fall to the ground, one of them with a bullet hole between his eyebrows.

(End of this chapter)