Chapter 371 - 136: Schemes Among Foxes
Art galleries, as derivatives of social circles, have always been favored by bohemians and celebrities. There, even the most low-profile people would passionately discuss the paintings they love.
This gallery located in the center of Marseilles holds seven to eight exhibitions each year that feature new artists, attracting collectors who are fond of curiosities.
Count Olson received an invitation from this gallery a month ago. He did not particularly notice it at the time; he simply had his butler file it in a folder. He never attended exhibitions introducing new artists.
Olson appreciates old things, from the castle in Scotch owned by the Olson family to the vintage car parked at his villa in the suburbs of Paris, he always has a special affection for aged items.
As for young painters and designers, he doesn’t think much of them, believing that most are lacking in talent and merely focusing on appearances. However, as a normal man, there is one thing he prefers younger: women.
In his social circle, several peers of similar age even like paedophilia, but he has not gone that far; after all, Olson holds one of France’s oldest noble titles, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to do anything outrageous.
In everyone’s eyes, Olson is a decent, charming, and genuine gentleman. Like always wearing a starched tuxedo to any occasion, the stiff tuxedo makes him uncomfortable throughout the banquet, but considering that it makes him look more imposing, he still keeps this habit.
Until last night, he had no plans to attend this art exhibition, but last night, he happened to pick up that folder, and the invitation appeared before his eyes again. Orleans checked his schedule and next Tuesday he happens to be going to Marseilles for a jewelry appraisal event, and there are still two to three days in between from tomorrow until next week.
If God presents the same thing twice before your eyes, then you should cherish this fate.
So today, Orleans is now standing in the gallery. He walked from the entrance to the very end of the gallery, and then, he found a painting.
It was a painting of a swan, a swan that failed to migrate south in time and was trapped on the ice-covered lake as winter approached. It barely survived the harsh winter, and just as spring arrived and the ice began to melt, when the swan was about to break the ice and fly away, a poacher’s gunshot shattered its dream of soaring into the sky.
Blood holes appeared on the swan’s flapping wings, its eyes filled with despair, were excellently captured by the painter. Olson stared at the painting, he was caught by the bloody vortex that took up a small part of the image. He felt his heart sinking into that blood hole. The decent Count Olson felt guilty; that swan, it reminded him deeply of his nephew, whom he had killed in the snow.
"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" While Olson was admiring the swan, a petite, dark-haired young woman appeared beside him.
Olson’s heart returned to himself, he intended to politely answer the speaking woman, it is beautiful. But when he clearly saw the woman beside him, he felt his heart uncontrollably stirred once more. This time not because of the bloody hole of the swan, but due to the beauty of the woman before him.
Her black long hair, and skin as white as a swan, this woman came from the East. She held a glass with amber-colored liquid, watching the painting while her eyelashes fluttered.
She herself was like a perfect painting, capable of attracting everyone to stop and gaze.
"This beautiful lady, I wonder if I might have the honor of knowing your name," Olson squinted his eyes slightly, as he hadn’t seen such a charming lady in many years. His wife had passed away in middle age, and he had lived in solitude for many years, surrounded by many women who pursued him—a mix of noble ladies and libertine women, but none made him feel as electrifyingly excited as the woman before him now.
"Wen Maixue," the woman responded in fluent French, which added to her allure as she extended her hand.
Olson took her hand leisurely, and politely pecked the back of her hand with his mustached mouth.
For the next hour or so, Olson accompanied Wen Maixue, who had come alone to the art exhibition, discussing new paintings together. Through their conversations, they both gained a deeper understanding of each other.
Olson came to know Wen Maixue as the only daughter from an Eastern prestigious family, twenty-one years old, well-educated, and currently responsible for helping her family find suitable collectibles around the world.
Wen Maixue’s understanding of Olson, however, was somewhat different. This man, who had once cold-heartedly shot his own nephew, was polite in speech and adept at concealing his true self. Though he was the father of Orleans, unlike the uneducated Olson, he had a profound and attractive personality.
Their growing understanding of each other made it hard for both to part ways after the gallery closed. Wen Maixue declined Olson’s offer to escort her personally, only mentioning that she would be staying in Marseilles for a few more days before leaving.
Olson, although impressed by this woman he encountered midway, soon forgot about Wen Maixue amidst the fervent attention of the women in Marseilles. After all, for his age, Wen Maixue seemed too young; she was only twenty-one after all.
But just like that invitation, Olson encountered Wen Maixue for a second time within a short interval. At the jewelry appreciation event, he met Wen Maixue, who was demonstrating "Green Love."
One piece from "Mussen’s Blessing," when the narrator announced this surprising name at the appreciation event, Wen Maixue walked into Olson’s view again, dressed impeccably in an evening gown. Olson knew then that his fate had arrived.
Wen Maixue and Mussen’s Blessing, he was intent on obtaining both. So after the exhibition, Olson fully utilized his geographical advantage as a Frenchman, accompanying Wen Maixue throughout and even inviting her to his holiday home in the Alps to ski.
"It’s only July now, you are being too hasty," Wen Maixue skillfully rejected Olson’s invitation, "Moreover, I must make a trip to Italy next, perhaps in November, then I’ll come and disturb you."
Olson thought about it; he was also quite busy lately and it was easy to neglect a romance that was finally making progress, "Alright, Xiao Xue, go ahead and attend to your matters first, I also have to close a deal about an exclusive right soon." (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your recommendation ticket and monthly ticket. Your support is my greatest motivation.)