Chapter 212


    Chapter 212 Pray That He Would Forget Her


    Although Katyusha in the oil painting was inly dressed, she was young and beautiful, with a plump


    figure.


    When she was chopping firewood in the forest, she met a handsome young man.


    The man was also inly dressed, even inferior to her, but the moment the two met, time seemed to


    stand still.


    This was the content of the painting “Katyusha flipped“.


    In the oil painting, the man and the girl who were young and poor met each other’s eyes and fell in love


    with each other at first


    sight.


    The second, third, and fourth paintings showed the love process of the two.


    They watched fireflies in the woods on summer nights, flew kites on the beach at dusk, and secretly


    kissed under the eaves sheltering from the rain.


    In each painting, they only had each other in their eyes.


    Love was so pure and passionate.


    In the fifth painting, the flesh and sweet scene disappeared.


    Katyusha overheard the conversation between her father and the guests and learned that he was going


    to sell her to the Duke who was about to die of old age.


    The young and cowardly Katyusha didn’t dare to disobey her father, and she didn’t even dare to rush in


    to question him, so she secretly ran to meet her lover.


    She and her lover decided to elope, but they were discovered by her father on the way.


    Her father led people to catch up and beat the man violently. Because he had no money to see his


    injuries, the man became more and more ill and was about to die.


    Katyusha agreed to her father, married the Duke, and got a hundred francs to let the man see a doctor.


    In the ninth painting.


    Katyusha came to see the man, who was lying on the bed dying.


    She wanted to see him, but she turned her back to him with a determined and attached expression.


    “She was here to break up,” Edison said suddenly.


    Ziana moved her lips but said nothing. The more she read these words, the more ufortable she


    felt.


    Inexplicably, she felt that these oil paintings had a sense of familiarity. In the first few paintings, she


    thought they were painted by herself in a trance.


    Every painter had uniqueness in color, understanding of painting, and way of expressing himself.


    But she found that the other party coincided with her ideas no matter in terms of color or expression.


    But the style of paintingter made her conclude that the other party was not her, and she would not


    use such a crazy painting


    method.


    The painter named Back almostpletely used the dark brushwork from the ninth painting.


    The whole picture was chaotic as if it was venting something, and it seemed to be using something.


    Even the girl and man in the paintings had lost their facial features, and no expression could be seen.


    In the tenth painting, such wild and out–of–control brushwork was brought into full y.


    On the day when the doctor treated the man, she wore a white wedding dress and knelt in front of the


    merciful Christ statue to pray.


    All the facial features were distorted, not so much a painting as it was more like a psychopath venting.


    But holy Katyusha, her eyes were as gentle and tender as in the first painting.


    Obviously, the whole painting was distorted and upside down, but this pair of clear eyes made


    everything peaceful and poetic.


    This kind of normality in such a chaotic world, with hope in despair, seemed a little weird, and superior.


    This was thest painting in this series of paintings, and it was also the painting that the quest required


    to steal – Katyusha’s Prayer.


    Ziana’s eyes were passionate, and she had the urge to cry.


    She looked up, trying to hold back the tears that were about to overflow, but holding back like this, her


    eye circles were all red.


    Edison thoughtfully handed over a tissue and said softly, “Do you need me to help you?”


    Ziana shook her head, and when she wiped away her tears, she suddenly asked, “What do you think


    she is praying for?”


    This series of paintings ended abruptly.


    The painter named Back was very proficient in how leaving nk spaces in his works.


    He gave enough room for imagination for the viewers to think and taste.


    Edison noticed the seriousness of her question, and his expression also became serious.


    After thinking about it, he said, “Pray that the man will be healthy from now on, free from illness and


    disaster, and also pray that she will be sessful in the future.”


    “I don’t think she prayed for herself,” Ziana said slowly, “When she decided to use marriage and the


    rest of her life to save the man, she lost herself in her heart. She sacrificed herself for this love. She


    probably won’t pray for herself.”


    “Then what do you think?”


    “She was praying that he would forget her.”


    N?velDrama.Org holds this content.


    Only by forgetting her could he move forward, ept a new woman, wee a new life, and live a


    good life.


    At this moment, Ziana was inexplicably connected with the painter with a shared heart.


    She felt that she could feel the hot and burning heart of the other party when he created this painting.


    “Back…” she whispered the name, “why haven’t I seen his works before? This is the first time I see it.”


    Ziana could tell that the other party’s painter was very good, basically on par with hers, and even better


    than hers.


    Not only that, the other party’s control of the story, the harmony of colors, and the elegance and


    nkness required by artworks were all well–researched, which could be called a master level. Such a


    person should not only have one work and shouldn’t be anonymous.


    Just his series of Katyusha works was enough to be famous in the painting world.


    Could it be another name for some master?


    “The signing date of these paintings was five years ago,” Edison suddenly said, “but it’s a bit strange


    that the works are not. popr now.”


    Ziana had already decided to go back and check out what others paintings did the painter create.


    She said casually, “Maybe the other party is low–key and doesn’t care about fame.”


    “It’s also possible,” Edison didn’t struggle anymore, but leaned over and whispered to her, “What are


    you going to do about our mission?”


    “I have a solution,” she also lowered her voice, “I will tell you when we are back.”


    The scene of the two of them whispering intimately fell into Boris’s eyespletely.


    He was standing not far behind them, turning his gaze a little, and he could see everything here.


    The hands in the pockets clenched tightly into fists and then loosened after a while.


    After Ziana and Edison left to look at other paintings, his eyes fell on that series of paintings.


    He quickly moved his eyes away as if fleeing.


    These paintings made him feel oppressed, especially thest ones.


    He watched it before Ziana. When he watched it, he felt irritable and his head hurt.


    Now he didn’t even want to look at it.


    After visiting all the paintings, it was already three hourster.


    Ziana and Edison had something to say about the mission, so she led him into their room.


    Neither of them noticed Boris who followed behind him the whole time.


    After entering the room, without waiting for Edison to ask questions, Ziana made a list and handed it to


    him.


    “Get these things ready,” she blinked, “thank you, Edi.”


    Edison nced, “Are you going to draw?”


    “Let’s exchange it secretly,” Ziana smiled like a fox who had stolen something, “I hung up the fake


    picture and stole the real


    one.”


    Edison gave a thumbs up, “Good idea, it’s just…”


    He didn’t forget Ziana’s abnormal reaction after seeing those paintings, “Didn’t you feel depressed and


    ufortable when you saw those paintings? Can you copy them?”