Almighty painter

Chapter 844 Double Melody
"I don't understand."

On the theater stage.

Rosings' throat made a gurgling sound, and his facial expression was as if he was a college student who had been studying difficult math problems for a month and was going to the bathroom when he found that the school genius was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and writing his standard answer on the blackboard with chalk in the other hand, and was also taking time to chat with the school girl next to him.

Amazement, envy, and confusion.

All kinds of emotions were piled on the scholar's face, taking control of his expression.

"It only says Coral. Uh, does anyone here know the answer?" Rosings turned and looked at the audience for help.

"Is this all the information on a 19th century ship ticket? Sorry, I'm not being nitpicking and expecting someone to write down the passenger's home address and house number. But what about the passport? What about the nationality? There should at least be a full surname."

“The content is too simple.”

The boat ticket in Miss Elena's hand has two contradictory characteristics: gorgeous and complicated, and extremely simple.

It was made of thick imitation parchment, inlaid with gold and trimmed with delicate scrollwork.

But there was no nationality, no list of fellow passengers, no names of her family members, not even a prefix like "Ms." or "Miss."

Except for the name, it is as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

No one answered.

This question also touched upon the blind spots of knowledge of everyone present.

"Are you questioning whether this ticket is fake again?"

Alexander looked at Rosings.

"Are you saying that someone provided false evidence to Oil Painting magazine?" Dr. Gustave folded his arms and looked at him.

Rosings puffed out his cheeks.

He seemed to want to say something profound, but hesitated for a moment. Before Alexander could scold him, he collapsed like a deflated ball.

"Do not."

He let out a low breath.

The man shook his head, his shoulders hunched, his eyebrows drooped, and his face looked a little gloomy.

From the moment he sat on the sofa, Rosings had been a hissing cobra.

He showed a strong skepticism. He would bite down on any flaws in the paper that he thought were flawed, and would not let go.

Even when Oil Painting magazine projected Father Anderson's message onto the screen, Rosings still didn't look very convinced.

now.

The difficult British scholar was finally defeated.

He uttered his last threats, as if it was a cobra whose head had been chopped off by a sword and it attacked subconsciously with its last nerve reflex. After twitching a few times, it completely collapsed without biting anyone, and weathered at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Rosings felt his theory crumbling.

The "venomous snake" that was roaming all over the ground a few minutes ago is obviously the same person at this moment, but it gives the audience the feeling of collapsing into a pile of white snake bones.

"That's not what I meant," he said.

"I just simply think the information above is too simple."

"Hey, Mr. Rosings, this is not the attitude you should have. I thought you would carry forward the spirit of questioning to the end." Alexander, the Dane who had been exchanging insults with Rosings for half the interview, was in a good mood at the moment. He pretended to be considerate of the other party, but in fact he said in a teasing tone: "You just said that the archives of Oil Painting magazine can only prove that there was indeed a priest named Anderson in the so-called British India back then, but it cannot prove the connection between Anderson and Carroll, nor can it prove the existence of Carroll."

"Now, you can also say that. Ms. Elena has a boat ticket in her hand--"

He pointed at Anna with the palm of his hand.

"This only proves that there was indeed a woman named Carol in history. Doesn't that mean she is the painter?"

Facing Alexander's questioning, Rosings waved his hand.

"Okay, that's not interesting. Before I came here, I was indeed full of doubts about this paper, but that doesn't mean I came here to find fault."

"Well, isn't it?" Alexander asked critically.

"No, no matter what you think, I just want to tell the truth, not to make trouble in this way." Rosings couldn't say anything more, and said in a low voice: "This kind of discussion will never get a 100% correct answer. All scholars can do is to constantly restore the facts and then choose what they want to believe."

"Faced with this kind of evidence, I can't find any reason to continue to refuse to believe that a lady named Carroll painted this picture in 1876. Maybe this ticket is fake, maybe the person who bought this ticket is not the same person as the Carroll in the diary... It's easy to find fault, but based on the current information... it's just a small probability event after all."

"So, a low-probability event, that's your conclusion now. Is that enough? Then what about those offensive remarks you just made? One moment you called someone a liar, the next moment you called someone a third-rate scholar. You just sounded like a hero, but shouldn't people be responsible for their own words?"

“Who’s fucking there…”

Alexander felt very comfortable when he sprayed.

He took advantage of the situation and attacked Rosings hard, seemingly determined to force him to take a stand.

"I don't regret what I just said. To be honest, what I just said is what I thought in my heart. I do think there are many difficult to explain parts of this painting... But, what you said is right."

Rosings thought for a moment.

He finally nodded.

He passed over Alexander and set his sights on Gu Weijing.

"I have to state in advance that I still feel that if I want to draw a conclusion that she is the first female Impressionist painter, there is still a lot of research to be done. This should be a long-term related research. There is too little information available about her personal information, but at least... now I feel that this is not a research that is sensational or has ill intentions."

The Englishman looked at the boat ticket in the hostess's hand.

"As for proving she was the first female Impressionist painter? Probably not. But let me apologize, it's enough for the boat ticket."

"Mr. GU, Mr. Gu Weijing."

Rosings called out Gu Weijing's full name: "It's up to you whether you sue me or not. It's also up to you whether you accept my apology or not. But I have to say that I owe you an official apology."

"I understand that what I said just now made you very angry. It was my fault, and I deeply apologize for it." Rosings said with a dead look on his face.

Gu Weijing nodded.

"it is good."

He leaned back in his chair to answer.

Rosings looked at Gu Weijing.

He is unpredictable.

Making the decision to donate "The Old Church on a Thunderstorm" in public sounds like something that only a reckless and impulsive young person would do.

But at the moment.

Gu Weijing's tone revealed power and majesty.

He did not show an attitude of letting bygones be bygones, nor did he respond enthusiastically to Rosings' apology, run over to shake hands, or say that it was all a misunderstanding and that it would be fine once it was resolved, and that it was all okay.

Gu Weijing did not take this opportunity to say something harsh like Alexander did, making Rosings even more embarrassed.

He said OK calmly.

Rossings could not infer from this brief answer whether Gu Weijing accepted his apology or not, or even whether he would actually sue him in court.

The young man said that he did not donate the painting because of Rosings's coercion and questioning, but only for the female painter Carroll. He did not believe this before, but faced with this brief answer.

Rosings believed it.

Rosings apologized to Gu Weijing, who gave a brief reply and then put it aside.

He was staring at Miss Elena.

Not a word.

An apt description is that ever since Miss Elena took out the ticket from her pocket, no, even earlier than that, as early as the moment "Oil Painting" magazine took out the investigative file on Father Anderson, Gu Weijing's gaze has never left Anna's cheek.

There was doubt in his expression.

The hostess's action of taking out an old 19th century ship ticket from her pocket further heightened the vigilance.

Is there no one among the guests present who doubts the authenticity of this ticket?
No.

some.

This person is not Rosings, but Gu Weijing himself.

Rosings just felt that the passenger registration information on the ticket seemed a bit too simple, but what about Gu Weijing? The young man was doubting that this ticket... was fake.

He thought that the transaction in the cafe had been gone with his refusal.

Since they met today, the other party has never mentioned this matter. Gu Weijing is not sure what Anna is thinking.

He also did not bring up the story of what happened in the private meeting during the interview.

But now.

Gu Weijing suspected that the deal was not over, it was just making a comeback in a milder way.

He stared at Anna.

He found that Anna was also looking at him.
-
"and many more--"

Gu Weijing spoke in a deep voice.

"Wait a moment."

He spoke, and Miss Elena also spoke, raising her fingers and extending her palms forward, making a still gesture.

"It appeared! This is it!"

The female host's action made Cui Xiaoming, who was in despair in the audience, almost reach a climax with tears in his eyes.

Yes, sister, you are absolutely right.

That’s the taste!
The legendary turning point has occurred!
Miss Anna's signature move is that when you are chatting happily, she will suddenly become moody and change her mind.

At the cocktail party that day, he thought he had successfully attracted Miss Elena's attention and was licking her excitedly, but then, "Pants snap!" the female director stretched out her finger and made a still gesture, asking Cui Xiaoming to shut up.

It's similar to the face-changing in Sichuan Opera.

Until today, Cui Xiaoming still hasn't figured out what the situation was.

"Enough, quiet, shut up" - this is Miss Elena's iconic statement in his mind. It's so right, that's exactly what it means.

Is this complete set of social destruction package now going to be enjoyed by Gu Weijing?
That day, Cui Xiaoming was left there by Miss Elena.

He felt helpless, wronged and desperate.

Now seeing the female host also use the same method on Gu Weijing to make him shut up, Cui Xiaoming, who was feeling extremely lonely, isolated and cold, felt so happy that he almost fainted.

"Ms. Elena is so awesome."

Cui Xiaoming was waving flags and shouting hysterically in his heart.

……

"A week ago, in preparation for this interview, the two of us had a private meeting at an artists' dinner hosted by the Biennale committee, right?"

Anna brought up the conversation on her own initiative.

Just as Cui Xiaoming had hoped, the female host's voice sounded cold.

"Yes—but—"

"From the perspective of the interview, whether a meeting is pleasant or not often depends on how people view it." Miss Elena said calmly, "But I think, from any perspective, neither of us would feel that the meeting was very pleasant, right?"

“So far, we have had many disagreements that we cannot reach consensus on.”

Gu Weijing's voice didn't have much ups and downs: "Regarding Carol's identity, I can't--"

"So you see, that's what conversation is about. There will always be arguments."

Anna shook her head and once again interrupted what Gu Weijing was about to say.

"When I first started in the industry, a senior media person told me that there is a special appeal to quarreling."

"When people finally come out of a dispute, a debate, a conflict, they will either hate each other more or gain something. Even if the differences still exist, people will feel more deeply the significance of the proposition that caused the quarrel."

Anna gestured to Rosings with her hand, but her eyes turned to Gu Weijing.

"I have no say in this matter."

"But I hope I can see the last one. Just like you said, you don't ask Rosings to believe you. You only ask Rosings to give you a chance to judge fairly and to convince the other party, just like he did with Leonardo da Vinci's Salvator Mundi."

“That’s all.”

"Now, we have seen the results. Rosings has officially apologized." Miss Elena said softly, "When everyone discusses the issue without preconceived positions and subjective biases, perhaps people can get different answers. Even if there is no decisive evidence, even if there is no way to reach a consensus, we can still return the core of the conflict to the problem itself."

"Are you right, Mr. Gu?"

Anyone present would think that Gu Weijing's "wait" was directed to Rosings, and Miss Elena was "hitting" Gu Weijing.

Reminding Gu Weijing that they had also had a fight.

The result of a quarrel is either to make each other hate each other more, or to make them more deeply aware of the significance of the problem.

She was signaling to Gu Weijing.

If he didn't want her to keep nagging about the argument, he'd better not keep nagging Rosings.

Only two people understood that what they were actually talking about was something else.

Anna stared at Gu Weijing, and she told him with her eyes - be quiet, please sit there, we have differences, but I will convince you. Not with 300 million euros, but with something else.

That is the meaning of this conversation.

And my only request, exactly the same as yours, is that what I say be given a chance to be taken seriously.

That's it.

Gu Weijing was moved by the strong determination in the female host's eyes.

He nodded slightly.

(End of this chapter)