The Versatile Master Artist

Chapter 386: Chapter 208: By Your Hand

Ole didn’t have a hunting dog’s keen sense of smell.

He only saw Anna casually fiddling with her phone for a while, and her eyes gradually welled up with moisture.

Is this... helpless crying?

Ole believed his cousin had finally been stripped of her strong facade, shedding tears.

"After all, she’s still a woman."

He mocked in his heart.

Ole was somewhat surprised by his current good mood.

Seeing the scene before him, he surprisingly felt no sympathy, but rather a strange mix of agitation and secret pleasure.

Some men have a natural war and destruction desire embedded in their genes, an ancient hunting instinct.

Ole was a Krueger,

His ancestors hunted honor and land on the battlefield, and his parents hunted money and wealth in economics.

Perhaps,

From childhood to adulthood, Ole harbored a part that longed to see his eternally outstanding cousin truly lose her composure.

Like seeing an unreachable rose blooming on a cliff, falling into dust.

Finally allowing him to look down and casually pick it up.

Ole stood up.

He didn’t attempt to reach for his cousin’s hand but looked down at her from above.

"It seems not only little boys who can’t get their toys will cry." His lips curled into a sarcastic arc.

How delightful,

What Father said was totally right.

Instead of pleasing others, use spurs to conquer them; as long as the right method is mastered, you can hold the reins and leash tied around their necks.

Ole could mock the solemn Countess from a high point now.

Ole was thoroughly enjoying!

In terms of pure money amount and long-term asset liquidity,

Anna still surpassed the Krueger family considerably, but the cousin clearly would not be willing to quickly sell off her prized possessions to raise funds to fight against an entire bank.

Moreover,

This isn’t about money; it’s a matter of philosophy.

In this rapidly changing era,

The top management of "Oil Painting" magazine has grown tired of standing alone on the deserted island.

When day after day you watch the mighty US Dollar flow past you like the great ocean but are hindered by some stubborn rules, trapped in place as an untouchable referee, it’s an unbearable torment for most people.

Those who go against the tide of the era will be abandoned by it.

Ancient Greek citizens ostracized the smart and radical Socrates with pottery fragments.

Today, history repeats itself.

The shareholders of "Oil Painting" magazine expelled the rigid and inflexible last female heir of the Ilyena family through their equity votes.

"Actually, Anna, if you don’t want to attend this year’s annual meeting, I can understand." He pretended to speak in consideration of Anna once again but coldly blocked any space for her to evade.

"Sir Brown believes that we can also ask Uncle Ka La to speak for the Ilyena family. After all..." Ole lowered his head and delivered a hard blow, hoping to catch more collapse and despair from Miss Elina’s expression, "After all, Uncle Ka La may be incompetent, but he’s very adept at disgusting people."

Anna still didn’t respond to Ole.

She wasn’t even listening carefully to Ole’s humming.

Anna’s heart was so turbulent that she had no time for such people’s noise.

The girl’s long eyelashes drooped; she gazed upon the side face and eyes of the Little Prince sitting on the dune in the picture, with gratification mixed with an unspeakable regret.

Anna had sighed countless times about her lack of painting talent, feeling estranged and clumsy with the paintbrush.

Miss Elina understood lamenting over such things seemed overly pretentious to outsiders.

If given a choice, let alone small issues like lack of drawing talent or weak muscle in the right leg.

Even if paralyzed, many art geniuses worldwide might want to trade their lives with hers.

But regret is regret.

Not being able to paint what she wants is Anna’s eternal unfulfilled desire.

Now,

This kind of regret is gone.

At the world’s end, another woman broke through layers of obstacles, gazed through Anna’s heart, observing everything Anna saw from the same viewpoint.

The brain’s waves resonated at a perfect frequency.

Anna, borrowing this sister’s hand, which passed through her heart, created such a stunning piece.

The telepathic resonance made Miss Elina’s thoughts continuously drift away, imagining this sister’s appearance and demeanor.

"How beautiful."

Anna’s slight regret now is that what she holds is ultimately just a cold electronic screen.

This artwork, scanned into billions of bytes of data across the Great Ocean, traversed through fiber optic cables undersea, came to her small screen, and was recreated as an image.

She doesn’t hold the strokes of Detective Cat with warmth, but merely a string of virtual world symbols.

No matter how meticulously the photo captures, it isn’t as truly tactile as paint and canvas; holding them adds a few layers of separation.

Alas...

She sighed softly.

"No need to sigh."

Ole’s face bore a morning glow.

He felt like a beast tamer or cowboy who had just restrained the most famous wild horse on the wasteland with a noose until it suffocated and stuck out its tongue.

Soon he could ride his prey back to town, winning enviable gazes from everybody.