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“Hedy? What are you thinking about?”
She snapped out of her thoughts and rejoined her friends’ conversation. “I spaced out for a moment—where were we?”
“Love at first sight—just like the stories in many knight’s tales and theater performances,” Michelangelo said with an unusually serious expression. “I still insist that this kind of connection between men and women is absurd.”
“But also quite natural,” Botticelli chimed in, swirling his wine glass. “People have an innate ability to recognize beauty, and falling in love at first sight isn’t all that extraordinary.”
Hedy took a sip of her wine, savoring the honeyed aroma of the oak barrels. “I don’t really believe in that.”
After all, appearances would inevitably age and deteriorate.
Today, one might fall for someone because of their looks, and tomorrow, the same reason could lead one to transfer their affection to someone else.
“It’s like listening to music,” Botticelli said, his tone more relaxed, a faint smile carrying a touch of nostalgia. “When you turn a corner and hear a violinist playing a long, lilting tune, even if you don’t know the name of the song, you’ll remember it for a long time.”
“When Simonetta appeared at the Medici Palace that day, many people were a bit flustered.”
“She was still holding her husband’s arm, looking reserved and youthful.”
“But Giuliano just stood there, staring at her, forgetting to take another sip of his wine.”
Hedy instinctively looked up and realized he was speaking calmly and with a sense of release about a past love.
It seemed like Botticelli had truly let go of many things.
Two or three years ago, he had been in pain, suppressed. Though his smiles and his cynical attitude had masked much, true relief seemed to be his real release.
When he spoke of Simonetta, it was as though he had returned to the most beautiful time, his tone softer and more gentle.
Leonardo noticed the shift in Botticelli’s tone, his expression growing somewhat complex.
"—At that time, I painted her portrait. Giuliano, before the knights' tournament, held it high and paraded around, even Lorenzo was watching her face," Botticelli sighed deeply. "Who wouldn’t fall for such a beauty?"
Michelangelo, somewhat surprised, instinctively spoke up, "But didn’t Plato discuss that only feelings between the same sex..."
"Are feelings between the opposite sex nothing more than base desire and sin?" Botticelli raised his knuckles and tapped the young man’s forehead. "If we just accept what the Church says, the Pope wouldn't have so many wives and children."
"Then why do Popes and bishops have illegitimate children?" Michelangelo protected his head, trying to understand some long-held confusion. "According to the doctrine, they shouldn’t be involved with women at all."
Hedy laughed and poured herself another glass of wine, slowly sipping it.
Morality had never been reliable.
When it was to people's benefit, it was that dazzling, bright flag, burning fiercely like fire.
But when it obstructed desire, it would be discarded like a worn-out shoe, and passersby might even step on it without thinking.
People in the Middle Ages opposed sex and love, opposed earthly pleasures and the liberation of human nature.
Five hundred years later, people still opposed many things, only now they replaced the sacred theology with what was called "moral correctness."
"Michelangelo, have you considered attending the Academy of Plato or the Florence Academy?" Leonardo suddenly asked."Perhaps you could listen to what scholars are discussing these days."
"That’s a good suggestion," Hedy agreed. "I could write you a letter of recommendation."
The young man froze for a moment, then his expression shifted to one of hesitation. "But, Mr. Domenico..."
"We’ll just speak to him," Da Vinci said, pulling out a manuscript from his coat and handing it to Michelangelo. "This is a diagram of anatomy I’ve drawn. Perhaps you’ll find plenty of inspiration after seeing it."
