The Versatile Master Artist

Tony hugged his cat and crouched in the corner of the hospital room.

The big boy opened his mouth wide, trying to use a fierce expression to scare away every adult present.

Drool, tears, and snot intertwined into a sticky mess on his chin; his fierceness did not instill fear but rather appeared comical.

Yet within the comedy lay a profound helplessness.

Watching the face on the screen, with features all twisted together, Gu Weijing sighed.

He remembered when Mr. Tree Sloth read ”The Little Prince” to him, and had once mentioned.

In the past, Old Europe trained successors, teaching them how to display the so-called ”elite aristocratic demeanor.”

An essential practice tip was not to show emotions like anger, fear, or fierceness on one’s face.

Those who could maintain an air of lethargic indifference toward everything seemed more unfathomable than those with pockets jingling with gold coins.

A king who is offended should calmly and silently grasp the hilt of the sword of revenge, drawing his sword without changing his expression between life and death.

When Queen Elizabeth of Austria-Hungary was stabbed with a sharpened file by a suddenly appearing assassin in Geneva.

The last recorded words Princess Sisi left in this world were simply and calmly asking, ”Sir, may I ask what you need?”

Someone who easily wears anger on his face usually means he cannot make any change to his surroundings and can only resort to the most powerless expression of emotions.

Baring fangs and claws is the most powerless resistance of a weak person against life.

If baring fangs and claws signifies a human’s powerlessness in life.

Then biting someone is developing the concept of ”powerlessness” to a desperate extent.

Even as mighty as Tyson.

When he stood on the boxing ring in ’96, retreating step by step, in a desperate move, sunk his teeth into his opponent’s ear, what the audience in front of the TV felt was not the wildness and ferocity of a beast, but the melancholy and helplessness of a troubled hero.

Whether it was Tyson about to lose in the ring or Tony holding his cat.

Aside from the hard teeth in their mouths.

They had nothing else to protect what they cherished.

Gu Weijing thought if one day he had to create a painting themed ”helpless and despairing soul,” Tony at this moment would be the perfect ready-made subject.

His helplessness was such that nobody cared.

The illustrator’s assistant hurriedly apologized to the bitten doctor, some watched the scene with a mocking mindset, and others shouted that if it didn’t work, just let Tony take Amy back.

Even Jean Arnou was annoyed by his son’s sudden act.

The illustrator master, who was just middle-aged back then, sternly ordered him to stop messing around and quickly hand Amy over to the doctor.

Ah Wang could at least scare Bu Dao kid to sit on the ground with his baring fangs and claws.

Tony’s baring fangs and claws couldn’t scare anyone in this hospital room.

And even if they were scared, what use was it?

The one wanting to take Amy away from this big child was not the veterinarian who fell victim to unjust disaster but the Death God.

Death is the greatest power that all living beings cannot resist.

He could sink his teeth into the doctor’s arm, but not into the throat of the Death God.

Tony perhaps couldn’t understand what everyone was saying or maybe was simply scared.

Streams of tears flowed from his cheeks, and his eyes were swollen like two big peaches.

”Meow.”

Amy, in the cat cradle, softly meowed.

The cat’s cry broke the confrontation between Tony and those adults.

In the footage, the skinny cat in the boy’s arms lightly wagged its tail.

”Amy?”

The cat in the bowl wobbled its head, propped herself up with her front paw, seemingly wanting to jump onto his shoulder or head as usual.

But she was weak and failed, falling back into the basket.

Tony carefully lifted the cat cradle to his face, taking out a freeze-dried sheep milk stick from his pocket, trying to feed Amy.

Amy turned her head, sniffed and then stuck out her tongue.

Instead of licking the milk stick, she gently, softly licked Tony’s cheek.

Once, twice, three times.

Streams of tears flowed from Tony’s eyes, which were then licked away by the cat.

The pet hospital room gradually quieted down, with veterinarians watching that scene in amazement.

If Amy were a human, she would now be lying in the ICU, covered in tubes as a dying patient.

A few months ago, the tumor in her brain had already pressed against her nerves, affecting Amy’s vision.

In other words.

She was a blind cat.

Amy had been lying still in the cradle like a sculpture, to the point doctors thought she had already slipped into a coma.

It really was an event difficult to interpret scientifically!

Amy’s actions could be explained by the notion that this cat relied on the residual sense of smell, recognizing her owner’s scent.

But why lick tears instead of the milk stick?

Cats are indeed capable of shedding tears, but that’s merely a reflex when their tear ducts are stimulated. A milk stick is food, while in a cat’s worldview, tears should just be salty water.

No one knew why.

That cat just continued to gently lick his cheek, licking away Tony’s tears.

”Meow.”