Countless facts have proven that there are far fewer people who send charcoal in the snow than those who fall into the well. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

From God's point of view, the mob on the Internet wantonly evaluates and accuses them of what they think is right and wrong, without considering the impact and harm that their overwhelming momentum may cause.

Juetong's parents didn't sleep all night, and before dawn, the old couple chartered a car and rushed to the next door to Hangzhou overnight, ready to fly from Xiaoshan International Airport to the capital.

People in their fifties are not enough to be frightened by a night.

On the other side, ten minutes before the deadline for the expansion project of the Louvre Museum in France, Bai Juetong finally stopped writing.

Although I was extremely tired, I still held on and scanned the A2 white paper that had been drawn for more than ten hours into the computer.

Then, without any delay, the scanned pictures and the corresponding introduction were packaged and sent to the mailbox designated by the committee.

"Do your best, obey the destiny of heaven."

After confirming the words 'sent completed', the spirit that had been tense for more than ten hours suddenly relaxed, and the person sat down in the chair.

I didn't have time to get into bed, I just closed my eyes and fell asleep on the table.

At this time, the genius gradually brightened, and the early morning sun pierced the night, shining through the window on the face of the dove tree.

The somewhat pale, not very handsome face had a different kind of charm in the sunlight.

The sleeping Horn Tong doesn't know what kind of controversy has been caused on the other side of the world with the sending of an email from him.

And Jue Tong's plan was not at all as netizens expected, and was easily swept into the trash.

In fact, on the contrary, the proposal was printed and placed in front of the judges, and its artistic value was discovered by the public, and the masters began to quarrel endlessly around it.

The authoritative jury, composed of thirteen architects and artists from all over the world, was almost split into two groups and almost got into a big fight.

In a large conference hall in Paris, France, fortunately, the tall wooden door of the conference hall was tightly closed.

Otherwise, if they are seen by others, these big men who were high in the past, a handful of people at the top of the art pyramid are rolling up their sleeves, scolding with red ears and red ears, and spitting everywhere, they will even stare out of their eyes when they think about it.

And if they dig deeper and learn that the bigwigs are arguing about a little designer from China who has just graduated for a year, they will definitely swallow a deep mouthful of spit, and only feel that the three views have been refreshed!

"What are you kidding?"

"I ask you to make every proposal selection seriously, the Louvre has an indescribable and profound meaning for each and every one of us in France!"

Only loud questioning voices could be heard in the conference room, and Mario, a European classicist architect, was almost roaring with a red face.

Mario, the head of the contemporary classical school, is described by the International Institute of Architects as the last master of the post-classical era, at the forefront of the hall, just one step away from the palace level.

In this world, the eight major arts have a common default evaluation system, that is, through the comprehensive consideration of artists' works, influence, and contributions, they are given glory, and the level of glory is from low to high: up-and-coming, first-time entry, entry, and finally the palace.

The palace refers to the palace of art, and the palace-level artists are only a handful in every era, and they are the masters who are truly famous in the annals of history, dazzling to the extreme.

Such as the palace-level painter Picasso, such as the palace-level sculptor and architect Michelangelo, such as the palace-level polymath Leonardo da Vinci...

In this era, there are no palace-level masters in the field of architecture, and the throne in the sky is in a window period, and I don't know how many designers are waiting for it!

"What kind of building is the Louvre?"

"It comes from 800 years ago and is a jewel left over from the Renaissance!"

Mario is in his seventies, but he still looks strong.

He stood in the front row of the conference table, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick arms, blowing his beard and glaring: "It is the wealth of all mankind!" ”

"But what are you doing?"

"Do you want to build a glass pyramid in the Napoleonic courtyard of the Louvre with all those damn modern building materials?"

Mario roared, glaring with fierce eyes at the masters in front of him who were no less famous and in status than him:

"This will destroy this 800-year-old building!"

"It will destroy the Louvre, it will destroy the pyramids!"

Mario took a few deep breaths and looked angrily at the supporters.

"Times are advancing, Mr. Mario, and I think this proposal from China can be described as amazing!"

"It is able to shorten the zeitgeist of the past and present to a minimum distance."

A younger middle-aged man stood up and retorted: "Bringing history into the modern era and giving it new vitality is the duty and mission that we architects should do!" ”

"Or do you think that in the new millennium, we are going to build another 800-year-old building?"

The middle-aged man's voice suddenly became higher, and the loud voice was deafening.

This middle-aged man is a pioneer of new architecture, and his rank is a little worse than Mario's, but he is also a master of the upper class.

"Hmph, the pyramids are for the dead, and you want to build for the dead in the Louvre."

"What are you thinking, I think you can be punished!"

Immediately, some opposition members angrily denounced.

"If this glass pyramid is really the final solution, then Mitterrand and we will be the sinners of France."

Mario said in a deep voice.

During the argument, at the head of the conference table, a gray-haired old man never made any comments from beginning to end.

He gently stroked the printed A2 architectural pen drawing with his old palm, his cloudy eyes flashing with a strange light.

The debate in Paris, France, continues, so let's not mention it for the time being.

Turn your gaze to the country again.

Tens of thousands of netizens still scolded Shang Juetong from time to time, and at the same time, some people began to constantly refresh the official website of the Louvre expansion project.

Since the deadline was stopped, the website page has not been updated.

The homepage is still the previous thirteen plans, but the official has never issued an official statement to determine whether these thirteen plans have entered the selection.

"The jury is reviewing the proposals for the last time, and if there are no accidents, the first round of selected proposals has been determined."

"The preliminary selection for the Louvre Expansion Project, which represents the world's highest level of architectural design, has ended, and design units from 13 countries, including the United States, France, Italy, Germany, and Australia, will officially enter the next round of selection."

Some media have taken the lead in sending out screenshots and reports of web pages.

Judging by the comments and news, it seems that everything has been settled.

It's ridiculous to say that these guys are more determined than the judges in the jury!

The judges were arguing in the conference room, and these people outside had already made a decision for them.

"Sure enough, the plan of the great designer of Bai Juetong didn't even set off a bubble."

Some netizens laughed, and the ridicule was undisguised.

In Paris, France, the night is getting deeper and deeper, and the controversy is at its peak.

Neither of the two schools of designers let anyone, they are really red-faced.

During the quarrel, some bigwigs slapped the mahogany table 'bang'.

On the main seat, the old man with white hair and beard is still staring at the painting of the dove tree, and does not make any comments.

After a long time, when the two parties finally realized that neither party could convince anyone, Mario suddenly looked at the old man on the throne and asked in a slightly respectful voice:

"Master Miller, what do you think?"

François. Miller, a painter, was ninety-eight years old and the only master to have attained the temple level.

And art, after reaching its climax, is common, and although he is a painter, he is qualified to preside over this selection.

Master Miller raised his head, his gaze slowly swept over the crowd, and opened his mouth to say: "Through the glass pyramid, I seem to see the bright and charming sky of Paris, it is beautiful and full of changes..."

"Put it in the next round and stay on the sidelines."

One sentence sets the tone.

A shortlist and a summary of the proposals were sent out of the conference hall and into the office of François Mitterrand, the French presidential palace.

Mitterrand scrutinized each plan before waving his hand to the staff to prepare to update the website's data.

At this time, people in China and around the world have been waiting impatiently.

'Boom! Boom! Boom! ’

At the same time, in the capital, there was a knock on the door of a bachelor apartment.

The knock on the door was quick and loud, and the impatience in people's hearts could be heard.

Jutong scratched his head, his eyes were still bloodshot, and opened the door in a daze.

Deep bloodshot eyes, thick eye circles, messy hair, pale face, this is the effect of the lack of rest after continuous work.

But in the eyes of the white father and the white mother, Juetong is extremely haggard, depressed, and desperate...

In an instant, the two old men had no thoughts in their hearts except for 'distress'.

"Son, clean up, clean up, Mom and Dad are here to pick you up!"

"Let's get out of here, if you don't stay here, you have a place to stay here, and Lao Tzu can still afford to support you!"

At this moment, the full of questions and worries condensed into these two simple words.

And the white mother, under the confused eyes of the juntong, had already picked up her son fiercely and choked softly.