"Since today might be the day I’m completely banished from this building... do you want to hear the story behind when my ancestor founded this magazine?"
Anna crossed her hands and looked up, gazing at the sculpture of her ancestor before her.
"Some biographers, when writing about this period, depict my ancestor as a shrewd politician with unwavering conviction—claiming that during the last half-century of the Habsburg Dynasty’s fiery reign, he was able to foresee the storm clouds looming over Europe."
"While other traditional European noble families still held optimistic expectations for the future, the Old Count had already predicted that war was inevitable. He withdrew early from the vortex of political struggle, laying long-term plans..."
Anna couldn’t help but show a peculiar expression in her eyes.
"There’s even a discussion group for history and biography enthusiasts on Goodreads, with dozens of pages dedicated to the topic of ’Old Count Ilyena’s Cunning Political Instincts.’ Back in university, I anonymously left a message suggesting that perhaps he wasn’t thinking about such things at all, and I got laughed at by the group members."
Elina took a gentle breath, her expression an indeterminate mix of a wry smile and something more complex.
"I guess, when he founded the Oil Painting magazine, he was simply trying to spite his father. It was that simple, nothing more."
"This was my great-great-great-grandfather’s act of revenge against his father, a revenge against the entire family." Anna shook her head.
"Revenge?"
Secretary Eliot was completely taken aback by this answer.
She furrowed her brow in confusion.
"Come, Eliot, stand by me and look at this statue."
Anna gently clapped her hands.
Eliot lifted her hand again, glanced at the hour hand on her wristwatch, hesitating to speak.
"Don’t worry, I’m well aware of the time. Besides, without the main course of today’s feast being served, what would they eat? The gentlemen at the shareholders’ meeting won’t mind sparing a few precious minutes to wait for me."
Today, on the last day of the Ilyena family’s nominal rule over the Oil Painting magazine, under the statue of the ancestor,
Miss Elina, usually cold in demeanor, appeared unusually engrossed in conversation.
She nonchalantly waved towards her secretary.
Eliot thought for a moment and compliantly walked from a few meters behind the wheelchair to Anna’s side.
Being a native of Glietz City, she was intensely curious about the mysterious and illustrious Ilyena family, a cultural symbol of the city.
After all, if not for today’s special occasion,
a secretary like herself might never have had the chance to hear these secret tales from under the shadow of such a legendary family.
It would be dishonest to say she wasn’t interested in hearing the story.
"You can look at the inscriptions on the pages in the sculpture’s hand, and without me telling you, you already know what it says."
Elina pointed with her finger for her secretary to see.
Eliot looked up.
The main trend in twentieth-century sculpture leaned towards expressionism, but sculptor M. Keburland preferred depicting the power and mass of sculptural figures, with an artistic style leaning towards classical realism.
This sculpture, titled "Count Ilana Smoking and Reading a Magazine," is a representative work of Keburland’s career.
The sculptor invested great effort in portraying the physique and appearance of Old Count Ilyena.
Even the tiniest pleat at the corner of his clothing was sculpted with remarkable detail.
When Eliot stood in front of the two-meter-high statue,
this significant figure in art history seemed to suddenly come alive and looked down at the secretary.
She gazed upwards in awe, following the direction Anna pointed.
In this bronze statue, donated by the citizens of Glietz City, the Old Count finally shed the stern, uninspiring elite cavalry officer uniform he had worn and despised all his life.
He dressed like an artist attending a banquet, donning a tailcoat with a long hem, a brooch pinned to his chest.
Mr. Ilina bent his left arm, holding a pipe between his fingertips, while his right hand held a magazine up to his eyes.
Tobacco and the Oil Painting magazine, the two things the Old Count devoted most of his passion to during his life,
remained faithfully by his side even after being sculpted into a statue.
The sculptor’s technique was exceptionally accomplished.
Eliot could even make out the German text engraved on the pages behind the turned magazine pages.
"Noble artworks cannot be described by critics; they speak for themselves. Noble souls cannot be constrained by the mundane; they will seek freedom themselves.
—In Tribute to Lady K!"
The secretary recited the words clearly.
In fact, even if Eliot couldn’t see the German letters carved on the bronze pages clearly,
she could vividly remember every word in this sentence.
From the first issue of the magazine published one hundred fifty years ago,
whether the early German publications, or the later editions in English, French, and other languages,
the closing page of every Oil Painting magazine has always carried this same sentence.
"In Tribute to Lady K!"
This phrase has been printed in millions of copies and is known by every reader and collector who has ever subscribed to the Oil Painting magazine worldwide.
In the art field, it has become as widely recognized as Bible stories in every household.
[Noble artworks cannot be described by critics; they speak for themselves. Noble souls cannot be constrained by the mundane; they will seek freedom themselves.]
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