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“Once you’ve recovered.” He stood up, placing her empty glass back on the bedside table and refilling it with orange juice.
As he was about to leave, his footsteps paused for a moment.
“Perhaps you could consider calling me Lorenzo, just like all the citizens of Florence.”
After Lorenzo left, he didn’t appear again for quite a while.
Meanwhile, Da Vinci began sending her all sorts of odd and curious things.
Things like jade stones or rabbit’s feet for good luck, a four-leaf clover from who knows where, and even a piano piece he had written himself—
It wasn’t clear whether he was unfamiliar with the piano or if he had gotten distracted while writing, but the piece was rather mediocre, with a few awkward parts that sounded off.
But no matter what, whenever Hedy saw him, her mood always seemed to lighten.
She started asking him to help with the planning, teaching him how to create lists and structured outlines.
Da Vinci willingly took on the role of her temporary scribe, his cursive handwriting beautiful and elegant.
At times, when he looked at her, there was a hint of guilt in hiseyes.
If it hadn’t been for his desire to show her his newly designed float, perhaps Hedy wouldn’t have encountered the events that followed.
Sometimes, as she watched him write, she would lose focus herself.
It wasn’t because she was entranced by his appearance or the graceful fingers that held the pen—though both were indeed pleasing to the eye.
What occupied her mind were certain mysterious and elusive inevitabilities.
From the very beginning, Hedy had been living in a world full of crises.
If she were truly unlucky, she could have quietly perished from something as simple as drinking a spoiled cup of wine or contracting some bacteria.
But what was more important was that her life now undeniably carried a certain sense of inevitability.
—To live peacefully, to have a long-term safe haven, she inevitably had to rely on the wisdom and insight of the lord, in order to influence the course of history and prevent the Italian Wars.
—To achieve those historic changes, she needed to contribute her modern knowledge and innovative ideas in all fields.
Even more crucially, she had to constantly use Da Vinci’s presence to create a win-win situation.
She understood creative design and modern knowledge in many areas, but turning those concepts into actual physical entities, and meeting all the demands both physically and mentally, was beyond her capacity.
But Da Vinci—he was the perfect collaborator for this era.
He was skilled in mechanics, good at manufacturing, and had an optimistic and open mindset, always willing to listen to herideas.
Had she not met such a shrewd lord, and such a powerful and capable collaborator, perhaps after hitting many walls, she might have eventually chosen to throw herself into the Arno River.
After all, this era, caught between ignorance and enlightenment, was filled with too much bloodshed.
“Hedy? What are you thinking about?” Da Vinci asked, organizing some scrolls. When she didn’t continue speaking, he questioned her.
Hedy suddenly snapped back to the present, instinctively replying, “Blood…”
“What?” Da Vinci, concerned, reached out and grasped her hand. “Are you afraid?”
“No—blood, blood and wood ash!”
