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People from the Florentine Academy even wrote to the Medici family, requesting that this noblewoman be commissioned to give lectures so that everyone could learn more about these new concepts.
The book was even passed on to England and France, where it reportedly caused quite a stir and response.
Da Vinci helped her create new experimental equipment, and as he flipped through the book, he couldn’t help but feel eager to try some of the experiments himself.
He had even set up a microscope in his bedroom, using it to discover many new things.
As a result, the painting for the monastery was delayed by more than a month.
"Recently, I discovered that when I added saline to certain cells, some of them would change shape," he eagerly shared his latest discovery, holding test tubes and flasks. "You know how yourfingers wrinkle after soaking in water for a long time—could that be related to these cells?"
Hedy smiled and nodded. "You should do more experiments, there are plenty of interesting things to discover."
"By the way, we should go take a bath together sometime," Da Vinci casually added, "I know a new barber who also does great massages, really good at relieving shoulder tension."
"That... won’t be necessary," Hedy replied with a smile.
"By the way, what has Botticelli been up to lately? Has he finished the oil painting of The Allegory of Spring?"
Da Vinci helped her organize her things, his expression tinged with regret. "Still drowning in wine and sorrow, it’s an old habit."
"Eh?" Hedy suddenly remembered what Dechio had mentioned before and instinctively asked, "Is it because of Simonetta?"
The beauty who had passed away several years ago?
The woman loved by both the Medici brothers and him?
"He loved her so much that even after her death, he seems to have lost his sense of self," Da Vinci said, clearly not understanding such profound emotions. He sighed regretfully. "He’s fine when surrounded by people, but when alone, he just sighs."
"We should go visit him," Hedy said instinctively. "It’s a painful experience."
"I don’t understand," Da Vinci looked at her. "Why do people fall in love?"
"What exactly are lust and love?"
Hedy paused, unsure of how to answer him.
"I see their pain or disappointment, and I want to express it in my paintings," Da Vinci’s expression remained sincere but perplexed. "But the only emotion I can feel like that is through art."
He could understand jealousy, disappointment, and frustration,but he couldn’t understand deep love between people.
Whether it was love between the same sex or the opposite sex.
Why do people place their hearts in someone else?
Hedy thought for a moment, then simply patted his shoulder.
"You’ll understand in a few years. You’re still too young."
The words coming from a twenty-year-old woman seemed almost absurd.
She found the right time to visit Botticelli, bringing pastries and flowers.
The room had heavy curtains drawn, and the faint smell of malt liquor lingered in the air.
The young man was passed out next to a painting, muttering something in his sleep.
Hedy had never seen Botticelli like this.
