Chapter 250: Softening Stance
Emma tilted her head thoughtfully before saying softly, "I... I'd like to learn art appreciation."
"Art appreciation?" Ollie looked surprised.
Emma nodded and slipped down from her chair, walking over to an oil painting in the study. "This painting is Impressionist, isn't it? The brushstrokes are very free, and the colors are bright."
Ollie was stunned. He walked over to the painting, examined the landscape carefully, then looked at Emma. "How do you know it's Impressionist?"
Emma looked a bit embarrassed. "I've seen lots of art books in Mom's study, and she's taken me to art museums. The brushwork and color use look just like the Monet and Renoir paintings I've seen in the books."
Ollie was shocked. This oil painting was indeed Impressionist style—he'd acquired it at an auction. Could a five-year-old child identify it at a glance?
"What about this one?" Ollie pointed to a portrait nearby.
Emma moved closer to examine it, her little brow furrowing slightly. "This should be Neoclassical style, I think? But something seems off about it."
"What seems off?"
"The lighting." Emma pointed at the figure's face in the painting. "The light and shadow aren't handled naturally enough, and the brushwork seems too deliberate. The authentic pieces I've seen in museums have much more fluid brushstrokes."
Ollie's eyes widened. This portrait was indeed a forgery! He'd bought it at a flea market in his youth and kept it here as decoration. He never expected a five-year-old to spot it!
"What... what else do you know?" Ollie's voice trembled slightly.
Emma considered this, pointing to several other paintings on the wall. "This still life has excellent light and shadow handling; this abstract piece is in Kandinsky's style with very clever color combinations; this watercolor shows mastery of transparency typical of the watercolor school..."
She identified five or six paintings in succession, getting every single one right!
Ollie was completely astonished. He looked toward William, who wore an equally incredulous expression.
"Emma, who taught you all this?" Ollie crouched down to meet Emma's eyes.
Emma blinked her large eyes. "Nobody specifically taught me! I just love looking at these paintings. Mom has lots of art history books in her study that I read by myself. She also bought me a children's version of 'World Masterpiece Appreciation' that I've read several times."
"You read it yourself? And remembered everything?"
Emma nodded. "I think these paintings are all so beautiful—each one has its own story. Like this Impressionist landscape—the artist must have painted it on a sunny afternoon when he wanted to capture that moment of beauty forever."
Looking into Emma's pure eyes, Ollie felt a complex surge of emotions. This child not only had photographic memory but also possessed keen aesthetic sensitivity. More remarkably, she could perceive the emotions and stories within artworks.
"Emma, would you like to learn art appreciation from your great-grand-uncle?" Ollie's voice was hoarse.
Emma's eyes lit up. "Really? I can?"
Ollie patted her head. "Of course you can. I've been collecting art my entire life. Though I've bought the occasional fake, I've gained some expertise. If you're willing to learn, I'll teach you everything I know."
"I want to!" Emma smiled happily, revealing two small dimples.
William watched from the side, his heart full of complex feelings. He'd originally hoped to use the children to dissolve Ollie's hatred, never expecting all three children to be so exceptional.
Jasper's chess genius, Ethan's natural talent for swordsmanship, Emma's gift for art appreciation—these three children were truly heaven-sent treasures.
Looking at the three children, Ollie's heart churned with mixed emotions. He remembered his recent fury over Emily's identity, his stubborn adherence to the Windsor family's hatred. But now, seeing these three outstanding children, he suddenly felt that perhaps things weren't as simple as he'd imagined.
What kind of mother could raise such exceptional children?
But he was still Ollie—Ollie who'd been stubborn his entire life. The hatred in his heart wouldn't completely dissipate because of a few children, nor would years of obsession change overnight.
Looking at the three children, Ollie said, "Your mother has raised you very well."
He didn't say "I accept her now" or "I'm no longer angry with her." He simply acknowledged a fact—that Emily was a good mother.
Jasper keenly sensed the reservation in Ollie's words but didn't press, only saying politely, "Thank you, great-grand-uncle."
Ethan didn't think so deeply, saying happily, "Mom's the best! She even makes us little cookies!"
Emma added quietly, "Mom's lemon cookies are so delicious."
Watching the children's innocent, bright smiles, Ollie felt a small crack appear in the solid wall around his heart. But it was just a small crack—there was still a long way to go before complete collapse.
Ollie glanced at the antique clock on the wall. "All right, it's getting late. You should head home."
Though reluctant, the three children obediently gathered their things.
William observed from the side, knowing Ollie's attitude had softened somewhat, though he was still far from complete acceptance. Nevertheless, this was an excellent beginning.
After the children left, the study returned to quiet, and Ollie stood alone by the window, watching William's car disappear into the distance.
In his hand, he held the Impressionist oil painting Emma had just identified. That child's pure gaze and keen observation had left a deep impression on him.
Ollie closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Perhaps he really should reconsider his view of Emily.
But let go of the hatred? Accept a Campbell family daughter?
No, not yet. He couldn't do it.
At least not now.
He turned back into the study, his gaze falling on the chessboard, the sword rack, and the oil paintings on the wall.
These three children were indeed exceptional.
Ollie shook his head, pushing the complex emotions back into his heart.
Take it slowly. Everything would need time.
Meanwhile, in the children's room at Charles's house, three children pressed against the window, watching eagerly toward the front gate.
"Great-grandpa William, why hasn't Daddy come home yet? He promised to pick us up today," Emma said, holding her rabbit plush toy, her little face full of disappointment.
Ethan pouted, too. "Yeah! I've been waiting forever! I wanted to show Daddy the swordsmanship I learned today!"
Only Jasper remained relatively calm, though his eyes showed a trace of confusion. He glanced at the wall clock—it was already seven in the evening. Daddy had never been this late coming home.