"Fick dich!"
Oler secretly cursed a German curse.
He is really not the kind of second-generation ancestor who only knows how to sit on his family's trust account, play with sports cars, and visit celebrities.
A banker has always been very Grandet in his life. He only gives 50 euro cents as a tip to the shoe shine doorman. But every year on his birthday, he would give each of his children a large check of 10,000 euros to cultivate their children's financial management concepts.
Some siblings like to use the money to throw parties and go on vacations to luxury islands in the Maldives.
And when he was six years old, he opened his first stock account accompanied by his guardian. With the help of chestnuts from the fire during the European crude oil crisis and the banker's annual birthday gift of 10,000 euros, by the time Oler reached adulthood, the account had snowballed to nearly One million euros.
He was omnipotent in riding the waves in the financial market, but he didn't expect to be stopped by a group of old men and women taking a walk!
"You have to think of a way. I paid for it."
He said irritably to the worker wearing a hard hat who was responsible for transporting the sculpture.
"What can I do? The crane is surrounded, and it can't be lifted if it can't move. Boss, I'm very anxious too."
The construction brother leisurely chewed a sandwich and smoked a cigarette, his eyes fixed on the young lady dancing on the screen of his mobile phone. He did not look at all anxious.
He blew out a smoke ring and emphasized: "Construction vehicles are paid on a daily basis here. If something like this happens, it is force majeure and is not considered a breach of contract. If you don't want to, we will terminate the contract and leave. When will the coordination be completed? Contact us again.”
"Can you lift it manually without using a vehicle? I can pay more."
"Manual lifting?"
The construction brother sneered and pointed at the statue of the old count holding an oil painting magazine: "Do you have any idea? That thing is made of pure copper and weighs nearly seven tons. I told you that the construction vehicles can't drive in front of us and we want to force the construction. There is no way. Otherwise, you can only find a way to break it down and move it piece by piece. Instead of worrying in front of me, you might as well ask the city council or the police station."
"Shit."
Oler's nose was so angry that it almost became crooked.
He had contacted the city council and the police station a long time ago, and the council simply gave the construction approval.
It's just that this sculpture is a protected cultural relic in the art list of Glitz City. It can be moved to the Elena Manor. It is absolutely impossible to violently demolish it with gas cutting.
The police station also sent people.
The officer on duty had turned white and looked like he was just waiting to die or retire without fighting spirit. He was playing with the cat among the ladies who were taking a walk.
People have said it.
If the marching crowd showed aggressive intentions or hindered the normal operation of the city, he could call the headquarters for support according to regulations. Now everyone is just taking a walk in front of the crane in mild protest, forgive him for not being able to do anything.
"Damn, damn, damn!"
Ole remembered his cousin's disdain for her. He raised his head and looked at Count Elena's pensive face on the sculpture in front of him. The more he looked at it, the more unhappy he became. He always felt that it was a silent mockery of his incompetence.
The oily young man wanted to spit on the sculpture to relieve himself mentally.
Halfway through vomiting,
He suddenly realized again that this thing was a protected cultural relic.
There might be reporters among those strolling protesters, and it would be a bit bad if such behavior was photographed and published in the newspaper.
Ole had no choice but to swallow the saliva again, and he choked on the saliva and coughed.
You can't drag it away, you can't smash it, you can't even vent it.
This big 7-ton copper lump really made him lose his temper.
"What's wrong? Why are so many people gathering in front of the magazine?"
Oller's cell phone rang.
He answered the phone and heard Sir Brown's voice on the receiver.
"I……"
"I'll be at the door now, get in the car and talk." The chairman of the magazine hung up the phone.
The oily young man looked around and found a dark-colored Volvo XC90 parked under the shade of the trees on the street. Sir Brown went to the new art center in Glitz this morning to preside over a new exhibition hall prepared for the European Art Annual Conference. After finishing his speech, I just came back and saw this scene in front of me.
Oller opened the car door.
"I saw the sign. Didn't things go smoothly? I just moved a sculpture." Sir Brown frowned and asked straight to the point.
"There are some dissident Gleze citizens, not many of them, but we must react quickly and respond accordingly."
Oler considered his words. He is now not only the executive director of the magazine, but also the agent of Kruger Bank, the largest shareholder of "Oil Painting".
Although the main interests are consistent with Sir Brown.
Oler still didn't want to appear too weak in front of the other party, and he didn't want to sound like an imbecile who couldn't even handle such a simple thing.
"Oh, how do you want to respond quickly?"
Sir Brown didn't want to listen to his cliches in financial reports to fool people, and asked calmly.
"How about... having a meal with the Speaker of Glez City?"
"This is a critical year for local elections. He will not agree to this during such a sensitive period. Besides, if you want to lobby the parliament, it is a bit too mobilizing. Political influence should be used at critical moments, it is just a sculpture. Parliament has given its approval." Mr Brown shook his head.
"Where are the union leaders?" Oler racked his brains to recall the few words his father and the heads of industrial entities talked about at the dinner table.
"Please, Mr. Kruger, my dear friend. This is not a strike demonstration by American truck drivers. Gleze is a cultural and tourist city with a low degree of industrialization. How many of those uncles and aunties do you think are workers? Will they listen to union leaders?”
These plans are too dogmatic.
Sir Brown shook his head in disappointment and glanced at the marchers holding various signs.
These uncles and aunties are like stinky dog poop stuck to the soles of their shoes. They can't be rubbed or shaken off. It's really disgusting to deal with them.
"It's still a bit underestimating the influence of the Elena family in this city."
The chairman is an experienced politician.
He does not lack sufficient social practice experience like the oily young people around him.
The probability that these seventh and eighth aunts organized themselves is very low.
There is a high probability that there is someone behind the scenes pushing it.
Mr. Brown glanced through the car window at the crowd of people protesting around the crane, and soon zeroed in on the figure of a young girl holding a sign.
The young girl also recognized the license plate on the roadside.
Carrying the slogan "Kruger Bank Get Out", she leisurely strolled over, knocked on the window, and handed a leaflet through Sir Brown's open window.
"Citizens of Glitz City, unite and protect our cherished Oil Painting magazine. If the old bitch Brown wants to sell it, just sell her ass yourself!" The girl said in a tone full of bad taste in front of Sir Brown said in front of him.
Sir Brown waved his hand to stop Oler who was about to explode.
Instead, he lowered all the windows grandly.
He looked at himself in the flyer, dressed like a madam in a European brothel, and standing next to a bitch dressed like a Dutch window shop girl. His facial features and blond hair were vaguely similar to Ole next to him.
"Such an impactful American comic-style caricature should not have been drawn by Miss Elena. Anna is not a good painter by nature, and her works always make people feel that there is a veil between emotion and technique. And this painting is too market-like, unlike the work of a young lady like her.”
He commented mildly.
"I drew it. What do you think, Sir Brown, your breasts are big enough and your butt is perky enough!" The female secretary Elliot looked at the chairman on the car seat proudly.
She didn't wear the blue-gray professional skirt that resembled that of a white-collar lawyer at the shareholders' meeting today.
Floral T-shirt, skinny jeans, silver coconut sneakers. She looked exactly like a female student who "happened" to be participating in a parade.
"Yeah, he's quite talented in painting."
Sir Brown smiled gracefully: "But since everyone has made the decision to move into a new era at the shareholders' meeting, Miss Anna is still the largest private shareholder of Oil Painting Magazine."
The chairman pointed at the protesting crowd dozens of meters away and made a sad facial expression: "We are all passengers on the same boat. Even if we don't want to share the same boat, we can still get together and get together. It would be too easy to do this now." I'm sad."
"Sir Brown. Our lady said that a person can either choose to be a Viking or a moral saint. You can't jump on someone else's ship, throw the owner off the gangplank, and then make a grand statement. Talking about being in the same boat and being together easily. This is so ridiculous."
The little secretary Elliot squinted his eyes and smiled at the old gentleman in the carriage: "I heard that you were sad, which really makes me happy."
"That's very insightful. Miss Anna should really consider going into politics or something. It may have a better future than working with my magazine. Those poor old royalists in the European Parliament really need this kind of appearance and good conditions. She is a new blood with public affinity. Maybe she will be elected as the Queen of the Danube Federation. If Miss Irina announces that she wants to restore the old empire one day, I will consider voting for her." Sir Brown is still smiling. Telling bad jokes.
He just pointed out the words "my magazine" in an emphatic tone.
"What if, Miss, she doesn't want to be the queen and just wants the sculptures of her ancestors to remain in front of the magazine." Elliot said softly.
"It's just a sculpture, why are you so persistent?" Sir Brown said.
"It's just a sculpture, why are you so persistent?" Elliot asked.
There was silence in the carriage for two seconds.
Both sides are actually asking questions knowingly.
It was not just a bronze sculpture, but something like a flag. A day after the sculpture was erected in front of the magazine building, the shadow of the Irina family's past will not always weigh on Sir Brown's heart.
"Well, if you're that insistent, my answer is no."
Sir Brown shook his head slowly.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I should print a bigger poster. Maybe you can see your mug shot on the TV news in the evening."
Elliot shook his head indifferently.
"Don't think you can secretly do construction at night. Let me tell you, there will be people watching here for a long time in the future."
Sir Brown's smile disappeared.
He said calmly and slowly: "The Elena family may be very influential in this city, but so what. Can they stay here for a few years like they besieged Troy? The crowd will always disperse. On the day I went, they stayed here for ten days, and I removed the bronze statue on the eleventh day. They stayed here for one hundred days, and on the morning of the one hundred and first day, I removed the bronze statue of the old count. Like disappearing."
"I can wait slowly, but any mark of the Elena family will disappear in the jungle of history. This is what will happen in the future. This is not my power alone, but the power of the times, any resistance It’s all a pointless struggle.”
"Is this your prediction? All those who acted as prophets in history ended up on the stake." Eliot looked into Sir Brown's eyes.
"The magazine's decision cannot be changed. If you are willing, you can regard this as an oath that combines the will of a saint and the determination of a pirate."
Chairman Brown said in a deep voice.
Everyone could hear the determination in the old gentleman's tone.
"Then...see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow. Say hello to Anna for me. One last thing, the cartoon is well drawn, Miss Elliot."
"No need, put away your hypocritical politeness. I can't deserve Sir Brown's praise. I know you hate me so much in your heart." Elliot nodded casually and picked up the protest sign in his hand again. .
Sir Brown nodded in return.
He waved to the driver, the XC90 motor started silently, and the Volvo slowly slid into the underground parking lot below the magazine.
"Sir. I said... they might be serious."
Ole next to him didn't have the depth of the city like Sir Brown. He looked at the promotional page he had standing on the street in the window and imagined how this poster would appear on the evening news.
The oily young man's mouth twitched twice.
Ever since she was little, cousin Anna has always kept her word. She said she would fight to the death with them, and she would fight to the death with them.
"It doesn't matter, just keep staring. I'm serious too, the time is on us." Sir Brown couldn't see any impatience on his face.
For the vast majority of citizens in Gleze.
Elena is just a distant name, and the new generation of young people have never seen the most glorious past of this family.
City pride and so on are mostly just paid lip service to.
Anna’s ancestors helped fight against the German army’s suppression of “degenerate art” during World War II and protected many artists. But these stories are in the past, and no one except documentaries will mention them anymore.
The artistic empire of the Elena family collapsed the moment the resolution of the shareholders' meeting was announced.
The sculpture in front of the magazine is the last pavilion for people to pay homage.
How long can we cry at the grave?
Is it possible to make people cry and come back to life?
What really worries Sir Brown now is the phone call he suddenly received before.
(End of chapter)
