"He has already flown away?"
Lin Hai leaned against the window of his dormitory, gazing up at the blue sky of Shanghai, and could faintly hear the roar of an airplane in the high altitude. By now, his sheepskin book must have been on the Air France flight, and all Lin Hai could do was pray silently.
He pulled his head back from the window and slowly spread open his left hand, where the red writing in his palm still glared at him - "aider moi."
Lin Hai washed his hands every day, but the writing on his hand never disappeared. He had even considered seeking help from the chemistry department, but he eventually gave up. Maybe he wanted to keep these words, because they were the cry for help from someone's soul, but he didn't know what to do about it.
Yes, ever since he saw Margaret in the art museum, Lin Hai's life had been completely changed. Most of the time, he hid in his dormitory, and dared not go out at night, even holding his bladder until morning. If there was any movement in the dormitory in the middle of the night, he would immediately be scared out of his wits.
Every early morning, Lin Hai would have the same dream. He would see Margaret...her face in the painting would appear vividly in front of him. She would extend her left hand and gently stroke his hair, while holding a human head in her right hand. Lin Hai was enraptured and allowed her to touch him, until he gradually saw the face of the human head, which was his own.
Whenever he saw this scene in his dream, he would scream and jump out of bed, frightening his roommates. Now his roommates almost regarded him as a lunatic, and he felt he was not far from hysteria himself.
"What should I do?"
Then, Lin Hai thought of the old house again. Since the night he spent on the attic, he had never been back there. Since no one had entered it in ten years, how could the painting in the attic disappear? And who hid the sheepskin book found under the tiger window?
Grandfather had long since passed away, and perhaps only his father knew the answer in this world. Lin Hai nodded to himself, yes, why not go find his father? Perhaps he could discover the solution from him.
He immediately left the dormitory, lowered his head and ran out of the school, boarding a bus to the outskirts of Qingpu.
People were used to calling Lin Hai's father Dr. Lin. He used to be the best doctor in the mental hospital, and was said to be handsome when he was young, with many girls secretly liking him. Unfortunately, his life was wasted in the mental hospital, dealing with a bunch of delusional patients. He had a chance for promotion at the age of 50, but an accident occurred. A patient with severe hysteria believed that people in white clothes were demons and locked him up to steal his organs, attacking Dr. Lin in the middle of the night. Unluckily, Dr. Lin not only suffered serious injuries but also suffered severe psychological trauma, making him unable to continue working in the mental hospital. He had to go through the procedures for medical retirement, and returned to his home with a heavy heart. After the great disaster, both physically and mentally exhausted, he couldn't bear the noisy environment of the city anymore and moved to the fresh air of the suburbs, renting a two-story farmhouse in the field to restore his physical and mental health.
At two in the afternoon, Lin Hai arrived at the roadside of the countryside in Qingpu. The countryside in April was filled with blooming rapeseed flowers, which was a magnificent sight. His father's rented farmhouse was located in a rapeseed field.
The farmhouse door was not locked, and Lin Hai quietly pushed it open and walked in. He saw his father watering flowers by the window. It had been over two months since he last saw his father, and his expression was still as stern as ever. Fortunately, Lin Hai had grown accustomed to his father's severe face. He rarely saw his father's smiling face when he was a child. His father was always silent and indifferent, as if influenced by the patients in the mental hospital or inheriting the cold gene from his grandfather.
Although they were both grown up, Lin Hai still had a natural sense of fear towards his father. He tentatively asked, "Dad, I suddenly remembered something. Grandpa passed away ten years ago, right? Why don't we rent out the old house after all these years? It's such a waste to leave it empty."
"No, I don't want to rent it out," his father replied resolutely.
After hesitating for a moment, Lin Hai finally nervously said, "Um, I went back to the old house a few days ago. I remember seeing a small portrait of a foreign woman in the attic when I was a child, but I couldn't find it this time."
"A portrait?" his father asked.
"Yes, a portrait of a foreign woman. It hung on the wall next to the small wooden bed. Do you know anything about it, Dad?"
His father shook his head and said, "No, there was never such a portrait. After your grandfather passed away, I went up to the attic, and besides a wooden bed, there was nothing there."
"Are you saying that this portrait never existed ten years ago?"
"Yes, it never existed. When I renovated the old house a year before your grandfather passed away, I went up to the attic to check it, and there was no portrait at all."
His father's words were decisive, leaving no room for Lin Hai to doubt. In an instant, Lin Hai's heart sank, and a terrible thought emerged... No, it couldn't be! He closed his eyes and dared not think further.
However, his father spoke of a past that he dared not recall, "Son, do you remember when you were a child, you used to sleepwalk and claimed to see someone who had already passed away?"
Lin Hai's face turned pale, and his lips trembled as he replied, "Yes, I remember. I remember seeing my mother."
"But your mother had already passed away. What you saw was only air, an illusion in your own mind."
"Don't, don't mention Mom!"
Lin Hai lowered his head in pain. His mother died in a sudden car accident when he was five years old. For all those years, his impression of his mother in his mind was always of a young woman. He was raised by his father alone, so he was a child lacking maternal love, often secretly shedding tears for not having a mother. Around the age of ten, he often sleepwalked at night, saying he saw his mother in the kitchen. Every time this happened, his father would slap him to wake him up from the sleepwalking.
Father continued sternly, "Because you didn't have a mother since you were young, you always liked to fantasize. You even had sleepwalking and mild delusional symptoms. Fortunately, I discovered your problem in time and gave you some subtle treatment. Your sleepwalking and delusions disappeared quickly."
Listening to this analysis from his father, a former mental hospital doctor, Lin Hai felt chills down his spine. He took a few steps back and said, "Dad, so, was the picture I saw on grandpa's attic also a result of my delusion?"
"Yes, and have you seen a similar or identical picture recently?"
Father guessed it correctly, and Lin Hai could only nod obediently.
"The picture you recently saw immediately stimulated your nerves, causing you to associate it with your childhood experience. Those memories produced by delusion have resurfaced, so you have an illusion that there was a picture in the attic."
Lin Hai murmured, "So, it was really an illusion...or a delusion?"
"Yes, you think it over yourself. Your complexion is very bad these days, have you encountered anything special?"
But this time, Lin Hai shook his head vigorously. "No, nothing special. Maybe I caught a cold these days."
In fact, Lin Hai didn't want to tell his father, but was afraid that his father wouldn't believe him and would send him to the old unit for treatment out of professional habits, thinking that his son might have a neurological disorder. Lin Hai's mind was already in a mess. After listening to his father's words just now, he couldn't distinguish between what was real and what was a delusion. He had originally wanted to show his father the words in his left palm, but now he clenched his fist tightly, afraid to let his father see it.
Finally, Lin Hai had to hurriedly bid farewell to his father and board the bus back to the city. Looking at the yellow flowers everywhere outside the window, he felt lost and didn't know where to go. After swaying on the bus for an hour, just as it entered the city, he suddenly thought of the Western Art Museum. He heard that the exhibition of treasures from the Musée de Saint-Louis in France would end tomorrow, which meant that Margaret would leave China and might never come back again.
No, he should go see her again, for the last time!
Within a few seconds, Lin Hai had made up his mind. He wanted to go to the Western Art Museum again and take one last look at Marguerite in the oil painting. He got off the bus early, grabbed a quick bite to eat on the street, and then rushed to the museum.
As the night fell, Lin Hai arrived at the entrance of the Western Art Museum. The closing time was 8 pm, leaving him less than an hour. Despite the expensive ticket price of 200 yuan, he didn't hesitate to buy one and hurriedly ran inside.
The museum was deserted at this time, with hardly any visitors in sight. The number of people in the portraits on the wall seemed to outnumber the visitors. In such an environment, Lin Hai had to slow down and keep quiet enough to hear his own breathing.
After quickly looking at dozens of paintings from the Saint Louis Museum, he headed straight to the innermost treasure exhibition room. The anti-theft door was still open, but it would be tightly closed in an hour.
Lin Hai always felt like someone was following him from behind, but now he couldn't care less. All he wanted to do was to take one last look at Marguerite, whether she was a real person or just a hallucination.
He walked quietly into the exhibition room, where he was still the only person there. In the cramped space, he felt suffocated and oppressed, making it almost impossible for him to open his eyes.
But Marguerite's eyes were fixed on him.
Finally, Lin Hai looked at the wall in front of him and saw the sixteenth-century oil painting still hanging there. His gaze met Marguerite's captivating eyes.
Facing this painting from over four hundred years ago, Lin Hai became completely calm and looked silently at Marguerite in the painting. Yes, she was still the same - her black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, her translucent emerald eyes sparkled, and her lips were slightly pursed, as if she had something to say to Lin Hai.
No, she couldn't possibly be a hallucination. She was a real person, living in the world of the oil painting.
Yes, Marguerite in the painting had life, and what was she thinking at this moment?
A faint breath emanated from the exhibition room, slowly entering Lin Hai's nostrils. He had to hold his breath and lean forward a little. Marguerite's gaze seemed to have changed slightly. She appeared sadder and more affectionate. She must have had a lot to say to him.
He finally couldn't control himself anymore and whispered to the painting, "What do you want to say? Please tell me everything."
Suddenly, Lin Hai seemed to hear Margaret's response...
What was she saying?
As if a sword had pierced his heart, his eyelids slowly closed, and in an instant, he felt nothing.
He fell into hell.
He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but Lin Hai finally woke up again, painfully opening his eyes but seeing nothing, as if he was at the bottom of a dark sea.
Yes, because he heard the continuous dripping sound, those trickling streams seemed to have submerged him.
Where was he? The seventh or ninth level of hell?
Lin Hai was dazed for a while, finally feeling the existence of his body. His limbs seemed to be able to move, and he reached out and touched something in front of him. It seemed like a door. And there was a cold plastic object under his butt, with his back resting on a board.
So he struggled to stand up, but it was still pitch black in front of him. Had he gone blind? He dared not confirm this terrible idea and instead reached out to push the door in front of him. But it seemed to be locked or bolted, and he couldn't push it open no matter what he did. He pounded on the door, and the terrible echo reverberated around him.
He gasped for a few breaths, feeling that his throat could still make a sound. He yelled, "Hey! Is anyone there? Where am I?"
Like an echo in a dark cave, the echo went far away and bounced back, but still, no one answered. He sat down in despair, and the frightening dripping sound continued, like many little insects crawling on his legs.
Suddenly, Lin Hai thought of something and quickly felt his waist. Fortunately, his phone was still on him. He quickly took out his phone, and the screen's fluorescence illuminated a small area of darkness. It turned out that his eyes were not blind!
He used the phone screen to shine around, only to discover that he was in a restroom. He had been sitting on the lid of a flush toilet just now, with plastic boards on both sides, and a small door for the toilet compartment in front of him, but it seemed to be locked. As for the dripping sound, it was naturally unique to the restroom.
He was locked in a toilet stall.
How did he end up here? Lin Hai looked at the time displayed on his phone. It was 10 o'clock at night, and the museum had closed long ago.
He first let his breathing calm down, then carefully recalled everything that had happened a few hours ago.
Yes, tomorrow was the last day of the Saint Louis Museum Treasure Exhibition, so he came to the Western Art Museum, went to the Treasure Exhibition Hall, and found himself alone in the secret room, facing Margaret in the oil painting... He smelled a certain aroma, and Margaret in the painting seemed to say something to him, and then he knew nothing.
God knows why he was locked in the bathroom. Lin Hai shook his head vigorously, thinking about using his phone to call for help, but he didn't know where he was, so how could anyone come to rescue him? He had to save himself. Lin Hai used the flashlight on his phone to shine on the top of the bathroom stall. The partition on both sides was only about two meters high and was a long distance from the ceiling. He could climb out from above. He stepped onto the toilet lid and stuck his head out of the partition, but it was still pitch black outside. He supported himself with both hands and placed his feet on the bathroom partition door. Finally, he flipped his whole body to the outside. Fortunately, he held onto the door panel with his hands when he came down, so he didn't fall.
Free from the confinement of the stall, Lin Hai used the flashlight on his phone to scan the surroundings. It was a men's bathroom and looked very clean. The bathroom door was not locked. He quietly walked out and under the faint illumination of the phone light, he could vaguely see that it was a corridor outside.
He cautiously walked through the corridor, still unable to see any light, and could only rely on the faint light in his hand. This made Lin Hai's heart beat faster and faster. Listening to the sound of his footsteps and the echoing emptiness around him, he felt like he had entered a tomb filled with marble.
Suddenly, in the dim light from his phone, it seemed to shine on a face. Lin Hai was so scared that he almost shouted. He trembled as he raised his phone and shone it towards the direction of the face, only to find that there was a Western man's face faintly visible in the darkness. He slowly walked forward a few steps and only then realized that it was a painting of a French king.
Finally letting out a sigh of relief, but not daring to slack off, he quickly used his phone to shine on the wall in front of him, and sure enough, there were several Western oil paintings. Those Europeans from hundreds of years ago were all gathered in this darkness, looking at Lin Hai in various poses and with different expressions, as if they could walk out of the paintings at any time.
It turned out that he was still in the Western Art Museum. After the museum closed, there was no one left except for the people in the paintings on the walls. Lin Hai continued to move forward, and the phone screen was as dim as candlelight, occasionally illuminating the faces of people in the oil paintings on the walls. You can imagine walking alone in an empty, dark museum with hundreds of years old oil paintings all around you, and the figures of those ancient people in the paintings, like ghosts, swaying in the faint light of your phone...
In this tomb-like environment, Lin Hai dared not shout out anymore, afraid that his voice would wake up the people in the paintings, and those kings coming out of the paintings would not be easy to deal with.
Suddenly, the light from his phone shone on a piece of metal reflection. It turned out to be the anti-theft door of the treasure exhibition room, and strangely, the door was still open. He reached out and felt his way into the secret room. He knew that Margaret's oil painting was inside. How did she spend the long night?
In the dark secret room, Lin Hai slowly walked forward, holding his phone high in front of him. The screen emitted a glow like ghost fire. There seemed to be a faint reflection in front of him, which seemed to be the location of the painting. As he approached, he could vaguely see a blurry face.
That was Margaret's face.
Under the dim light of his phone, Lin Hai leaned in closer and the face became vividly lifelike. Her emerald eyes were watery and as alluring as genuine Burmese jade.
She blinked.
Margaret in the painting actually blinked! Lin Hai was certain he wasn't mistaken, he even felt a fragrant aroma emanating from the painting.
It was unmistakable; Margaret in the painting stood up, with her black hair cascading like a waterfall, amber earrings, court dress, and velvet cloak.
This wasn't his imagination or delusion, it was something he saw with his own eyes.
This was a ghost in a painting.
But at this moment, Lin Hai had forgotten his fear. He looked at Margaret like a devout believer, watching this miracle of human and spirit.
Finally, Margaret was right in front of him.
They were only a few centimeters apart, with the phone screen almost touching her eyes. The fluorescence penetrated her translucent pupils, and he could even see her pupils contracting.
Lin Hai breathed in the same air as her, and the sensation of exchanging air with her was indescribably wonderful.
Suddenly, Margaret's hand grabbed him. The ghost in the painting wasn't cold-blooded. The warmth emanating from her hand passed through Lin Hai's body like an electric current.
A miracle had happened - Margaret had walked out of the painting.
What was even more unexpected for Lin Hai was that she spoke.