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The street scene on the canvas already had its divisions and outlines, and the play of light and shadow was clearly sketched.
Each stroke on the canvas seemed like a school of swimming fish, as if it were her breath.
He dipped the brush in purple and began sketching the shadowed parts of the walls and trees.
Hedy didn’t need to tell him where to enhance and refine, where to emphasize or highlight—he seemed to intuitively know her thoughts, handling it all with perfect precision.
The deep purple and light blue balanced the contrasts between light and dark, while the deep red glow would shift its color because of the snow-white walls, turning into a gentle and bright orange-red.
They stood, she beside him, silent, yet it felt as though they were dancing together, floating and gliding in the entire church.
When Leonardo focused, his mind could hold nothing else.
He continually glanced out the window, comparing the street scene and twilight, using brushes of different sizes to create an atmosphere and the mood of the painting. His hand never paused, never hesitated.
Hedy smiled as she stood behind him, her expression relaxed and soft.
They were always in sync in everything they did.
Whether it was the work in the mechanical workshop, the drafting and issuing of decrees, or even playing a piece of music together.
No need for extra glances or words—just the awareness of each other's presence, and a mutual understanding and resonance that needed no explanation.
They should have shared the same pain—talent unable to be fully expressed, the frustration of unfulfilled ambitions, being falsely accused and arrested, being the subject of public gossip, mockery, and humiliation, the dire financial situation, and the never-satisfied need to perfect their work.
She watched as the painting continued to evolve under his brush, and her thoughts drifted to other things.
If it had been him who was taken away that time in the palace of Genoa, she thought, she would probably have done the same thing.
Without a second thought, suppressing all fear and trembling, perhaps even alone, she would have crossed the entire peninsula to Rome to bring him back.
If there was a soul exactly like hers in this world, it was only he whose soul could align perfectly with hers.
Perhaps even their pulses and heartbeats resonated in unison, like a song that never ceased.
When Leonardo came back to himself, he realized that it was already from midday to evening.
They hadn’t even had dinner.
“Hedy?” He turned to look at her, offering a wry smile, apologetic as he had many years ago. “I got so lost in the painting, I forgot about you.”
“I was like that just a few days ago,” she handed him the wine glass, “Now we’re even.”
The technique in this painting spanned three hundred years, yet the effect it presented was no different from the works that would come in the future.
As the sunset light bathed the quiet street, the light through the church's stained-glass windows resembled a shattered rainbow. The trees on both sides varied in depth, and the stone of the walls and the long street affected the color of the daylight.
Everything was flawless—no one would notice that this was the result of their joint creation.
It wasn’t until they walked back to the Old Palace together that Hedy suddenly remembered something. “Hey?”
“What is it?”
“I just remembered why I came to find you at noon,” she paused in her steps and looked at him. “Your birthday is coming up—I don’t know what to get you.”
Leonardo was momentarily stunned, his expression slightly confused. “When is my birthday?”
“Next week, it’s really soon,” Hedy rubbed her forehead. “Getting you a jewelry bouquet or something feels weird... Leonardo, is there anything you want?”
