Almighty painter

Chapter 1070 How to "fall in love" with Gu Weijing like Anna did. (First Update)
“You must first ‘copy’ this painting,” Ole said. “Don’t draw it, just look at it. Open your eyes wide, hold your breath, and look at each brushstroke.”

Ole's gaze fell on his colleagues in the buying team.

“I know some of you are losers.”

He said.

“I know Sarah doesn’t like you and kicked you out of your department. She thinks you’re worthless, you’re losers, you’re trash.”

Ole stared at the head of the buying group.

The other person frowned, seemingly forcing themselves to endure the words.

"Feeling humiliated?"

Ole walked over, pointed at the other man's chest with his finger, and said in a goading tone.

"Come on, can you endure all this? Tell me like a real man, do you consider yourself a failure?"

“No, sir. I will prove it.” He raised his chin and answered like an angry soldier.

"No, you have failed."

Ole scoffed, saying dismissively, "It's laughable to deny the facts. If there hadn't been a failure, why aren't you sitting in the art director's office right now? Hmm? Why haven't collectors all over Europe come licking your toes yet? Hmm? Don't like these words? Hmm, when Ms. Sarah hears something she doesn't like, she turns and leaves without even giving me a second glance. But you can't. You have to sit here and listen to these words that utterly destroy your dignity, hmm?"

The young man uttered a nasal sound with every word he spoke.

With each groan he made, the man across the table lowered his head a little further, until finally, he had transformed from the angry soldier into a hunched-over middle-aged man.

"Everyone else is sitting here listening to me because they chose the job I offer. Only you are sitting here today because you have no choice at all."

"Did you see the way your other colleagues looked at you? It was the look they gave you for a loser. You're the only loser in this room, aren't you?"

"How can you deny what has already happened?"

"Proving you didn't fail? I don't understand. How exactly can you prove that something that has already happened didn't exist? Turning black into white? That's a skill only Gu Weijing possesses. Sorry, you don't."

Why are you still sitting here, sir?

The middle-aged man appeared to be crying.

He finally couldn't bear it any longer, stood up, and silently put the things on the table into a folder.

The other colleagues in the room were silent with fear. They had never expected that Mr. Kruger, who had been so kind and warm before, would come here today and use humiliating methods to ruthlessly fire one of them.

They may not feel much sympathy for those who lack ability; at most, they might feel a little bit of mutual dependence.

"Hey."

Ole seemed to think he hadn't slapped the other person hard enough, so he reached out and grabbed the other person's shoulder.

"enough--"

Middle-aged people have tempers too. He was originally a respected figure in the magazine "Oil Painting". He raised his hand and wanted to knock this annoying guy away.

Just as he was about to raise his hand.

Then I remembered that this was the adopted son of Mr. Kruger, the banker who was in charge of the magazine "Oil Painting"... uh, his biological son, Kruger.

The middle-aged man's overwhelming helplessness surged into his heart, and for a moment, it overwhelmed his anger.

My hand went limp.

Mr. Kruger Jr. grabbed the middle-aged man's hand. Seven years of self-discipline and fitness had clearly yielded excellent results. He had once torn hair and pulled ears with European porn stars on the floor of the Elena family's house, engaging in a fierce and inseparable struggle.

just now.

His hands, however, were like iron clamps, firmly gripping the middle-aged man so he couldn't move.

Mr. Kruger Jr. stared into the other man's eyes, and, without a second thought, stretched out his hand high.

"Oh! It can't be that bad—"

Humiliation is enough, but slapping someone across the face is really going too far; they might sue you! Although the competition and elimination process is extremely rigorous, and the subtle bullying of newcomers by senior lawyers may be a traditional practice in top European law firms, the legal advisor next to him still felt that this scene was a bit excessive.

Do you really think he's nobody? The fact that he's willing to endure such humiliation is only because of Mr. Kruger's father.

He cursed inwardly at this spoiled rich kid for being so ignorant, and out of professional instinct, he stood up to try to stop him.

But Ole's hand still fell.

"What are you doing!"

The middle-aged man instinctively backed away and closed his eyes.

There was no crisp slapping sound.

Ole grabbed the other man's wrist with his left hand and used his right hand to pull the slightly overweight, frail old white man, who was a full size larger than him, into his chest like he was holding a big orange cat.

he……

He actually gave the other person a hug, like a typical male hug.

The colleagues nearby were stunned, the legal advisor who got up to break up the fight was stunned, and even the old white man who was being hugged was stunned by this unexpected turn of events... He was also bewildered.

"I understand how you feel, my friend."

"Powerlessness, shame, humiliation."

He patted the other person's swaying back: "I understand."

"You're not the only one in this room who failed."

"Ole said softly."

"Me too. I also lost miserably in my own field."

His calm words contained a strange power, like soothing a big orange cat. He stroked the old white man's back, and the old man in his arms gradually stopped squirming.

Ole thought about the day he was humiliated and driven out of his own Elena estate, about the days and nights of the past seven years, about Anna's hair fluttering gently in the wind by the stream.

"my brother."

“Those words weren’t just for you; they were also for myself. I’ve felt everything you’ve felt, and I know what it feels like to be knocked to the ground.”

"Did we fail? Of course, that's a fact. We have no way to prove that something that objectively exists in this world doesn't happen."

"We have all lost everything that should have been ours."

“But we can prove we’re not losers. We lost the game, but we’re not losers.” Ole’s voice was deep and calm, the calm that only comes after a crumpled piece of fabric has been hammered a thousand times day and night by failure, anxiety, and helplessness. “My father always said, ‘Lose is a result, loser is a state.’ You fail, you fail, you can win next time, but a loser will always lose.”

“It’s okay. I’m saying all this today to tell everyone in the room that we are all the same. We all lost the game.”

“I also want to tell everyone that you are not a spineless man, you are not a coward, and you are not someone without a choice. Just now, you chose to turn around and leave. You didn’t want to endure all of this, which made you lose your dignity. This is a greater humiliation than losing money.”

Ole's hand, which was placed behind the man's back, was clenched tightly, as if she were holding a cold pebble in her palm from her youth.

He can choose to leave.

He could choose not to endure all of this; he could travel the world; he could drive a convertible with a beautiful woman in the back, aimlessly speeding along the French Riviera.

He had the right to choose a life of debauchery, but he stayed, remaining at the Oil Painting magazine, where he was both talked about and ridiculed.

He lived like this for seven years, until he had to ask himself – what was the point? Why did I stay? Why did I have to endure this kind of life?

"But you will still choose to stay. Because I begged you to stay."

"Ole said."

"Because I need your help, you stay. Because you have to grit your teeth and prove that you are not a loser, you stay."

"I'm going to tell everyone in this room."

Ole scanned all his colleagues in the office and slammed his fist into the chest of the head of the buying team.

He pounded so hard it was almost like he was hammering.

The middle-aged man stood ramrod straight, his chest taut as he bore the weight of it all. He remained silent, yet he seemed even more like a true warrior than he had at the beginning.

"he."

Ole pointed his finger at the other person's chest.

"He didn't stay because he was driven away like a stray dog, or because he had no other choice. He stayed because he chose to defend everything he owned. He didn't stay because he lacked dignity. He stayed because he chose dignity."

He can turn around and leave.

“He chose to stay. He is a respectable person, just like you. From now on, I don’t want to hear anyone in this office, or in our team, laughing at him.”

"I will never allow you to insult such a person!"

The middle-aged man had been having a difficult time lately, and Mr. Ole Kruger had undoubtedly heard those rumors.

Ole walked over and opened the office door.

"If anyone disagrees with this, they can leave now. If I hear similar rumors again, I will ask you to leave directly."

The room was quiet.

Mr. Kruger's eyes quickly swept over Hunter Bull. He was genuinely worried that the other man might cause trouble at this crucial moment, if he did.

I'm sorry.

Ole had no choice, which meant he had no way to control the other party or even to conduct basic communication. He could only politely but firmly ask the other party to leave, even if it was "Elvis" Bull.

He had an extremely high tolerance for Hunter Bull; he could treat him like a revered deity, and he would even fly to Paris just to buy him a hat. He could tolerate the other man teaching him how a train should "whistle."

But Ole couldn't tolerate Hunter Bull being a ticking time bomb in the room.

Bombs are meant to kill enemies; if they're constantly exploding themselves, Ole would be better off staying far away, even if it's an atomic bomb. From a utilitarian perspective, Hunter Bull has already shattered the myth of Gu Weijing's artistry with a single paintbrush; as for the rest—

For Ole...

This old madman might not be as important as the head of the buying team who has worked for the magazine "Oil Painting" for many years, is highly experienced, and is extremely loyal to him.

He certainly failed and was driven away like a stray dog.

But to be honest, it depends on who he lost to. After all, he was someone who had the potential to become the art director of "Painting," so losing to someone like Sarah isn't shameful at all. If it were Anna, she would have gotten a severe dressing-down from Sarah too.

well.

No one spoke.

Even Hunter Bull didn't cause any trouble; he just stared at the scene with wide eyes and great interest.

Ole walked back and stood in front of the head of the buying group. This time, the man's eyes were red, and there was a real sense of loyalty to a friend.

"You saw all those paintings just now?"

Mr. Kruger Jr. asked.

“Yes, sir,” the middle-aged man said.

“You know what to do, right?” Mr. Kruger Jr. continued to ask.

“Yes, sir,” the man answered decisively, “I know perfectly well.”

“Very good.” Mr. Kruger Jr. nodded. “Gu Weijing is a painter, while you are a professional. You know how to analyze a painting, how to appreciate a painting, and how to destroy a painting. You know how to put a bullet in someone’s head. I can’t teach you how to look at a painting; that’s your job. For an expert like you, it’s nothing short of an insult to me, an amateur like myself, to offer my opinions.”

"Ole said softly."

"But I can give you two things."

“First, it’s a suggestion—a suggestion on art appreciation,” Ole said. “This suggestion didn’t come from me, but from…from Miss Anna Elena.”

He said.

“I’d rather forget my advice as bullshit, but you must listen to Miss Anna Elena’s advice.” He gave a cryptic sneer. “Because she’s a success story, one of the most successful people in your industry. She was the art director of *Painting*, the most professional magazine in the industry. And later, as everyone knows, she became Gu Weijing’s agent, and Gu Weijing is the most successful painter to emerge in the last twenty years.”

"He is not an easy opponent to defeat."

"If you want to defeat him, you need to listen to what Anna says and does."

Ole took a deep breath.

“I won’t advise you on what to do, but I will tell you what Anna did… We… we grew up together.”

The man sat down in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

I beg you—

"Don't hate Gu Weijing. In the very beginning, you should... love him from the bottom of your heart."

“When we were little, my godmother would talk to us about empathy in art.”

(I'll write a chapter after I get home. This chapter is to make up for yesterday's. There will be a second chapter, but if it's too late, I'll put it out tomorrow afternoon.)
(End of this chapter)