Almighty painter

Chapter 1052 Handsome Man

The train sounded its whistle.

In that instant, the sound of the harmonica changed from clear to passionate, the sound of the steam whistle and the harmonica mingling together, resounding clearly in the midday air of Saxony.

"cool--"

"twitter--"

"Cool—chatter—cool-chatter-".

"Cool, cool, cool."

The little train, spewing steam, rattled and spun away, revealing the figures of the crowd behind it to everyone's gaze.

The old-fashioned train moved very slowly, and when it started, it had no sense of speed at all. To the onlookers, it looked like a red curtain being drawn open to both sides of a stage.

The first thing to be revealed was a gold-inlaid cloisonné cage, with a blue-feathered parrot perched on the crossbar, vigorously rubbing its beak against the base of its feathers to relieve an itch.

Then there's that hand.

It was amazing! That hand shimmered with a dazzling light, like sunlight, making you squint.

No.

Upon closer inspection, it was the glittering, diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist, reflecting the sunlight.

What's more eye-catching than the watch is this man.

What a man he was!
A light gray jacket with a few loose but textured lines adorning it. The jacket is half-unbuttoned, revealing a sky blue shirt underneath. Loose-fitting jeans in the same color as the shirt extend straight down to the ankles of 8111-style American retro work boots.

These boots, with their heels striking the hard ground, produce a heavy, almost effeminate sound with every step forward, making even handmade leather shoes seem a bit effeminate.

What's even more outrageous is that this isn't some Rust Belt industrial area like Texas or Ohio, but a place with such good air quality adjacent to forests, yet the visitors are still wearing the kind of face shields that gunmen in Western movies use to cover up the dust.

The lower half of his face was covered by a pink face mask with mosaic patterns, while the upper half was covered by the brim of an earth-toned cowboy hat, revealing his lips. He tilted his head slightly and played the harmonica held in the palm of his right hand.

He was actually playing the harmonica with one hand!
Too domineering.

This superhero-like entrance seemed to have stunned everyone.

No one spoke anymore.

The master photographer turned his head back, gripped his telephoto lens tightly without a word, and frantically pressed the shutter. Some reporters had already impatiently run across the street.

"handsome."

"He's so handsome, just like the legends say."

They arrived at the train station early this morning, and the moment they saw the passengers getting off the train, they knew they had made the right choice.

……

Yang Dekang looked with satisfaction at the camera lenses pointing in this direction.

These lights, these warm smiles, these exclamations—all of them were shining for him. Although the photographers didn't actually use flash during the day, Lao Yang still imagined in his mind the scene of those twinkling lights like a bright river flowing and sparkling for him.

A true man is born between heaven and earth.

Isn't he meant to exist for such a glorious and dazzling moment?

This once again proves Yang Dekang's life theory—a man's looks are not important; as long as he has style, even a fat man can be very stylish! His clothes can be tasteful, and his wife can be beautiful.

Even a chubby, greasy middle-aged man with a belly can have a global fan support group!

temperament.

A good temperament is very important.

Although those dazzling flashes of light only existed in Yang Dekang's imagination, the smiles on the faces of those female fans were absolutely real!
Yang Dekang watched as a reporter from a fashion magazine ran toward him, her golden hair bobbing in the sunlight.

"If she asks me about color matching tips for clothing then," Yang Dekang pondered, "I'll answer her, 'Oh, miss, where do you get the tips for this? It's just the wisdom a man has accumulated over the years.'"

Nearly.

closer.

ten meters.

five meters.

three meters.

Yang Dekang took a step back, used the hand holding the harmonica to hold the cowboy hat and took it off, covering his chest with the hat, bowing slightly and revealing a gentlemanly smile.

The reporter didn't slow down at all, as if she was about to rush straight into Yang Dekang's arms.

"Is this what it felt like for Michael Jackson when he faced crazy female fans?"

Old Yang's heart was pounding.

Then the two passed each other by.

The female reporter, her golden hair still fluttering in the sunlight, rushed past Old Yang without looking back. A fashion magazine reporter ran past, a reporter from German television channel ZDF ran past, a whole group of people ran past, and finally even the middle-aged man carrying a large camera, having finished taking long-range shots, ran past.

All that remains is Yang Dekang, who looks like a sculpture.

"Mr. Sakai, this is your first public appearance in the past two years, which is attending the opening ceremony of a museum in Germany. Is this arranged by your endorsement company? I can speculate that it is because of your streetwear brand plan. Will there be further collaborations with Detective Cat in the future?"

"Look here, would it be convenient for me to strike a pose of deep contemplation? I would be very grateful."

"...Do you have any weight loss secrets you'd like to share? Or any fashion tips?"

"Mr. Sakai!"

"Mr. Sakai!"

Yang Dekang, under Medusa's curse, turned his head very, very slowly. He could even hear the faint coughing sounds coming from his stiff neck.

He gazed at the passenger who had just gotten off from another carriage, now surrounded by reporters and photographers.

Wait! What is that?
Are those fans who sent flowers?

This isn't some personal art exhibition of yours. You come here to attend the opening ceremony of a museum and even get female fans giving you flowers.

Is this appropriate?

Is this reasonable?

That's probably fake. The agent must have secretly hired these extras. How much do extras get paid per day?

and.

Holy crap!
Yang Dekang was completely stunned as he listened to the sound of the wind and heard that familiar name.

You call this Kazunari Sakai?
Stop lying.

A very distinctive big belly, a sumo wrestler-like physique, and the way he walks makes you feel like he's about to bounce and roll all over the place—that's the kind of person you can call Kazunari Sakai.

And this.

No, handsome, who are you?
-
It was a handsome face that was both melancholic and authoritative, with skin that was bronzed by the sun, and thick, dark eyebrows that accentuated the bright, slender eyes below.

The lines of his face were extremely smooth, with a three-dimensional jawline and a high and straight nose. To protect such a nose that could be considered a perfect work of art, Michelangelo was willing to endure the Venetian official's harassment a hundred or a thousand more times.

What a handsome man he is.

Yang Dekang had always thought that the word "beautiful" seemed strange when used to describe a man. However, the appearance of Sakai Kazunari completely shattered Yang's previous notions.

How to describe it—

After just one glance, Lao Yang had the idea to take his photo and replace Irish male model Jamie Dornan as the personal homepage photo on his alternate account while surfing the internet.

This face is far too perfect for the definition of a "melancholy and handsome young poet".

Although Kazunari Sakai no longer looks young, he doesn't even seem to pay much attention to his appearance; there are slight crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and some bluish-gray stubble on his chin. Seeing him, you still feel as if all those passionate and handsome poets of the past have come to life in an instant, surrounding him and composing new odes to his appearance.

Every line of the eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and eyebrows is so smooth.

Combine them.

All that remains is poetry.

He had seen photos of Kazunari Sakai when he was young and thought he was handsome, but he never imagined he was this incredibly handsome.

This is a quality that cannot be captured by digital photography at all; the passion and sorrow hidden in those eyes are so deep and so intense.

It's like a poem, and like a painting.

Kazunari Sakai straightened the collar of his thin trench coat, took off the soft hat from his forehead, revealing thick, black hair that was permed and smooth, lying flat against his temples.

He still likes to wear brown trench coats as before, only now the clothes are from brands he collaborates with.

That said, Kazunari Sakai used to dress somewhat like Inspector Megure from the anime "Detective Conan".

And now, transformed, he looks—

He still looks like Inspector Megure from the Detective Conan cartoon.

but.

The only difference is that the original super fat version of Inspector Megure has been replaced by the current super handsome version.

After seeing the current image of Mr. Sakai, the head of the advertising department remarked that there is no longer any need to hire fashion models to walk the runway. Starting next year, all the advertising covers for fashion items in the "Kazushige Sakai" product line can be replaced with images of Kazushige Sakai himself.

If you look closely, Kazunari Sakai is still a little bit chubby.

She's far from having the figure of a model.

Unfortunately, his handsomeness was too unfair. Although slightly chubby, he was already a ceiling that Old Yang, who carried a parrot, played the harmonica, and walked with flair, could never reach. Yang Dekang could hardly imagine... just how handsome Sakai Kazunari must have been in his youth.

"Just one question."

Kazunari Sakai held up one finger, and after a moment of silence, the noise returned. The uncle gently gestured with his hand.

"Go ahead and say it, you were the first one to arrive."

He spoke to the female reporter from the fashion magazine in front of him.

"Mr. Sakai—" Receiving such an honor, the fashion reporter's eyes shone with an almost blissful light. She introduced herself to a well-known European magazine and then asked, "Do you have any weight loss secrets you'd like to share? Or any fashion tips?"

"These are two issues."

Kazunari Sakai said with a smile.

"But that's okay."

"To be honest, it's hard to say there's any secret. There are tons of weight loss methods online, it's not like I have the chance to teach anyone. If I had to say what made me who I am today, then... it would be 'love'."

Although this word has been said a hundred or a thousand times, it immediately took on a different kind of persuasiveness when it came from the mouth of Kazunari Sakai, a man who became incredibly handsome after successfully losing weight.

Anyone would believe it immediately.

This word contains a secret that European fashion magazines, large and small, have been searching for but have yet to obtain.

"Love," the female reporter said devoutly.

The handsome uncle nodded.

"It's love. Love is like the chocolate topping on ice cream, or the scallions in yakitori. Love always makes people better versions of themselves."

"As for clothing..."

"I think--"

“Oh, miss, where does the secret to this come from? It’s nothing more than the wisdom a man has accumulated over the years,” the man, his skin gleaming in the sunlight, said in a deep voice.

Woo!
A surge of intense emotion welled up from the depths of Yang Dekang's heart.

NTR!

This is NTR!

Those are Old Yang's famous sayings.

It clearly belongs to Lao Yang!
Yang Dekang felt that he was experiencing something extremely cruel; he had been NTR'd in front of everyone once again. The smoke emitted by the locomotive of the little train that had just left was fake; if this were a comic book, Yang Dekang would definitely be seeing large plumes of smoke billowing out of his ears and nostrils, just like a steam locomotive.

In reality.

Old Yang seemed to be fully armed and ready for a passionate shootout in the Wild West, only to be shot through the chest by an even more flamboyant gunman.

He staggered backward, nearly tripping over the rails.

"Be careful."

A steady, strong hand supported him from behind.

Yang Dekang turned around and saw Gu Tongxiang thoughtfully handing him a cocktail.

Martini.

Shake well, do not stir.

Gu Tongxiang looked down at the parrot in Lao Yang's cage and clicked his tongue as a greeting.

The middle-aged man grabbed the wine glass handed to him by the old man, and without even using a straw, tilted his head back and gulped it down in one go. He even swallowed the cherry in the glass and chewed it.

Yang Dekang chewed on the cherry in his mouth with envy, jealousy, and hatred, as if he were chewing on Sakai Kazunari's handsome face.

"Damn it," Old Yang said.

"It's not that bad," Gu Tongxiang said with a smile.

“No.” The middle-aged man shook his head: “Brother Gu, you’ve never been fat, you don’t understand at all.”

"Kazunari Sakai has betrayed all middle-aged people with big bellies."

"How could he betray the big-bellied man!"

"How hard it must have been for the belly, how much it has suffered, and yet it just said it didn't want it anymore..." Yang Dekang murmured, his tone extremely mournful.

They clearly agreed that even a chubby, greasy middle-aged man with a belly can have a global female fan support group!

How could he suddenly become so handsome!

Gu Tongxiang still seemed unable to understand Yang Dekang's sorrow, shaking his head repeatedly beside him.

"Imagine if one day Bruce Willis turned around and got a hair transplant, and his bald head turned into a thick, black head of hair, what would you think?"

Yang Dekang spat the cherry into the cocktail glass and turned to ask.

"I'm not bald!"

Gu Tongxiang immediately protested, clearly displeased.

He stood next to Yang Dekang, watching together as Sakai Kazunari was surrounded by photographers. A few seconds later, he pressed his finger against the newsboy cap on his forehead.

Old Gu patted Old Yang on the shoulder and said sympathetically.

"damn it."
-
The clock tower struck twelve times.

It was noon.

Guests, journalists, officials from Saxony, and staff preparing for the museum's opening ceremony were all busy in the square inside Marien Castle.

But on the top floor of the castle, everything was very quiet.

"Did you know that those European Gothic-style churches are often built particularly tall, with soaring towers? This is because people at the time believed that the higher the place, the farther away from the hustle and bustle of the world, and the closer to God's Kingdom."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

A middle-aged man peered down through the gap in the blinds.

Marienburg Castle boasts an extremely complex architectural structure. As a palace built at great expense by the last monarch of the Kingdom of Hanover, it has nearly 150 guest rooms for banquets alone, and its height surpasses that of many churches in Europe.

Standing by the window frame, looking down at the guests coming and going on the ground, they had a feeling of being on top of the world.

"Mr. Yang is truly a learned man."

The old man beside him sighed.

"No, no, it is precisely because I am well aware of my own mediocrity that I have hidden my ordinary and uninteresting soul in the immortality of poetry and knowledge."

The middle-aged man answered.

The museum's opening ceremony will be held at 1 p.m. As Gu Weijing's good older brother, "Master Yang," and Gu Weijing's grandfather, they can be considered the "VIP among VIPs" of the guests.

Yang Dekang and Gu Tongxiang took a guest badge and went upstairs to Gu Weijing's room to rest.

Yang Dekang opened the cage door, stretched out his finger, and let the macaw jump onto his index finger.

After such a long period of persistent pleading and cajoling.

His macaw still hasn't learned to recite poetry, but the only progress is that it's now willing to hop onto the middle-aged man's fingers.

Old Yang may not have many other strengths, but he has a great attitude.

Not long ago, he was shot through the chest with a hot bullet, but now he has fully recovered and is happily showing off his parrot with Grandpa Gu.

Did you know that Picasso once owned an owl?

"Really?" Gu Tongxiang said in surprise.

"real."

Yang Dekang said, "He has painted more than ten oil paintings about owls and also made ceramic works with owl themes. It is said that he really likes to hold the owl in his hand and show it off to guests."

"He said that the owl was his source of inspiration, possessing the spirit and energy of a falcon, and was his good friend."

"This is what a master is like," Gu Tongxiang exclaimed.

“Yes, I kept that parrot to imitate Picasso.” Yang Dekang said, holding his parrot by the window. “Picasso also kept a cat, but too many painters keep cats. It’s not that they are outstanding. You have to keep some unique pets.”

"To be honest, after seeing your fat cat, I gave up the idea of ​​getting a cat."

"Yes. It's been spoiled rotten." Gu Tongxiang pointed out.

“There’s a saying: ‘Pigs bring poverty, dogs bring wealth, and cats bring mourning!’ You can’t spoil cats. It’s just that Gu Weijing has no temper. When we were in Singapore, that cat was very well-behaved in front of me,” Yang Dekang recalled.

"Yes. Back when we lived at home, it would pitifully whine and call me to get up every morning!"

Gu Tongxiang was equally assertive.

"Also, the cat food is too good. According to Old Wu, the cat is so well fed that it has forgotten how to catch mice."

“It should go hungry for a couple of meals,” Yang Dekang said.

He stared at the crowd outside the window, listening intently for Gu Tongxiang to speak.

But the strange thing is.

This time, Old Gu remained silent.

(End of this chapter)