Chapter 662 - 304: Striking the Soul

Tony cried with abandon and passion.

Tears flowed like they were free, drenching his face to the point where it was hard to tell if it was saliva or snot.

If Duke Cao, who wrote "The Red Mansion," could see a man appearing forty years old crying like this, he’d probably lament that "men are made of water too."

The expressions of those in the drawing room were varied.

Hearing such pure sorrow, no one present felt particularly good.

"The Elder Jean Arnou also said that if any of the three Painting Knife painters’ works could have a magical effect on Tony, it would be this Detective Cat."

The assistant recalled the confidence his employer previously had in Detective Cat.

He was filled with mocking laughter.

"Consider my eyes opened; this work is indeed magical. To crush a dull autistic patient to tears is a skill in its own right."

Anya frowned in anger, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white.

She wished she could grab the collar of that African painter through the TV and ask her why she painted such a vicious work.

She cruelly hurt an innocent, confused child.

Only Professor Boggs, after initial shock, still gazed somewhat dumbfounded at the colors on the screen.

"Hmm."

"This use of orange is skilled, and the depiction of flames is exquisite... the slightly curled texture of the fur within the flames is also very good... the portrayal of sorrow and frenzy is of a high standard!"

The quirky old man’s eyes showed a hint of admiration.

Among the great painters recorded in the history of art masters, over half are somewhat mad.

Professor Boggs had previously been worried.

Detective Cat, as an illustrator for too long, had been smoothed by life, creating only to flatter the client.

It seems I was mistaken.

To not care about offending authority and to submit such a rebellious work for a commission from an art giant like Jean Arnou.

Not only has he not been smoothed out.

This guy is simply too edgy! Edgy from head to toe!

Even someone as eccentric as Professor Boggs found Detective Cat’s madness quite impressive.

"I like this girl’s craziness."

Professor Boggs stealthily glanced at the illustrator standing beside his sobbing son, looking sullen-faced and patting his back, softly comforting him.

The old man was calculating in his mind.

An artist being a bit crazy and a bit shabby is usually not a big deal.

But this guy was already disliked by the "Oil Painting" magazine.

Fortunately, illustrators are considered the common folk in the serious art industry.

She still clings to the Scholastic Group’s publishing arm, fluttering around within her own small territory.

Now she has thoroughly offended Jean Arnou, the Illustration Emperor cherished by the Scholastic Group’s board, their artistic treasure.

If Jean Arnou holds a grudge.

This painting might directly cause her unemployment!

"A good thing indeed."

Professor Boggs stroked his chin, eyes gleaming with a crafty light.

Maybe now he could offer her a lifeline and bring her into the studio as an assistant?

A sixty-five-year-old tenured professor.

As long as he doesn’t aim to make big money from selling paintings, or hold exhibitions in major art galleries.

Professor Boggs could shamelessly indulge himself in the small world of the studio, treating all societal pressure as sheer nonsense.

Not sure if Detective Cat has a formal art academy diploma, and maybe the Brooklyn Academy of Art’s board would block her teaching position... but it doesn’t matter.

Professor Boggs thought she has just about completed a set of illustrations for "Little Prince," in collaboration with a top-publisher like Scholastic Group, not earning too much money.

If the entire art world rejects Detective Cat.

Even if he specially recruits her as a student, she might not refuse when hungry.

"My own student? Ha."

Old Boggs imagined such a scenario, stroking his chin, his mouth slowly curling into a sly smile.

"It’s over, it’s all over. We won’t cry anymore, no more crying. Amy has always been with you... How about dad buys you a kitten? They’re cute too..."

Jean Arnou, however, was in no good mood like Professor Boggs.

Tony was much taller than him.

The gentleman craned his neck to comfort his relentless sobbing son, gently patting his back while suppressing his anger and softly soothing him.

Upon seeing the painting.

Jean Arnou’s face turned ghastly.

As a father, to best understand the feelings and emotions his son felt when seeing these artists’ works.

Jean Arnou chose not to preview them, out of trust and respect for professional painters.

Thinking these were artists with certain social interest and discussion, they would maintain some limits and wouldn’t create anything too outrageous.

Who could have expected...

This Detective Cat pulled quite a stunt.

Jean Arnou regretted his earlier decision immensely.

He had invited Detective Cat to help cure his son.

If she didn’t want to paint, she didn’t have to.

What did filling Tony with despair accomplish!

His son might generally be a bit foolish or dull. But seeing him cry so pathetically now, the illustration master’s heart ached as if pierced by a knife.