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"You surely want more people to hear the voice you want them to hear."
Controlling the newspaper was equivalent to controlling the machine of public opinion.
And Lorenzo did exactly that.
In just a few months, he had selected the right editors, and in record time, the first issue was published. He began experimenting with one edition after another.
Though the costs and prices were somewhat high, they were still attractive enough.
He selected suitable people from the academy to write articles that weren’t too esoteric, as well as reports on the trivial matters between city-states. He also cleverly had people start writing small stories in the style of Decameron in the sidebar.
When Hedy saw those melodramatic and popular stories alongside the newspaper in Italy, she couldn’t help but admire the Medici family’s commercial talent.
In fact, stories like Decameron were almost more scandalous than the modern tabloids.
On her way to Milan, she had read several of those stories and had been left speechless for a while.
What stayed with her the most was the story of a beautiful woman who, while her husband was away, frequently had an affair with her lover in the house. When the husband unexpectedly returned, she called him over to help her scrub a large wooden barrel. They both bent over to peer into the barrel, while she pointed out where they needed to scrub more. The lover, meanwhile, stood behind her, continuing his indulgence...
Such stories didn’t seem all that rare in the Middle Ages.
By now, even the existence of illegitimate children had become widely accepted. The Medici gentleman, who had long been without any illegitimate children, had even been praised for his virtue.
Later, when flipping through the newspapers every week, Hedy would occasionally glance at Da Vinci.
Some stories were so bad they were hard to speak of, even more embarrassing than certain scenes in public baths.
After reading those stories, she would look at the painter, who was intently studying the tail feathers of a pigeon, and feel incredulous.
In a country where such customs were prevalent, there could still exist such a pure and single-minded person.
He would create strong city walls, be handsome, and speak elegantly, but he would have no impure thoughts about either women or men—perhaps that was what an angel was.
By the sixth day of the injections, the rooster had fully recovered. The previous inflammation and pus had completely disappeared, and it was clear that the experiment had been a success.
This—was truly incredible!
Compared to the cosmetic surgeries she had designed in modern times, or the miracles of the new era, the fact that the penicillin she had personally created worked successfully made her feel so joyful that she wanted to dance.
This was the dark and backward Middle Ages... and she had done it!
Hedy wrote a detailed report on her findings and submitted it promptly to the lord.
Suddenly, she had two bold ideas, each requiring time and money.
The first was to build a sufficiently large workshop, using containers that were even taller than a person, to store larger quantities of penicillin.
Before the advent of antibiotics, one of the main causes of death in wars wasn’t just from the bullets and shrapnel but also from the infections caused by various wounds.
If she could create larger containers and ferment more of the fungal cultures at a faster rate, perhaps she could produce enough penicillin to save people’s lives!
The second idea was to find new strains of mold.
This came from an accidental discovery.
Due to illness, the cucumber on her fruit plate had been left uneaten for a long time and became moldy.
When Dechio was about to throw them away, Hedy stopped him, deciding to experiment again with these cucumbers and golden staphylococcus.
