"Aider moi!"
It was that word again! Translated into Chinese, it meant "Help me." It was really spoken by her, and Lin Hai had to believe what he heard with his own ears. Her voice was so charming, with a hint of sixteenth-century aristocratic French accent, although her tone was somewhat sad.
Looking at Marguerite's face under the glow of his mobile phone, Lin Hai's mind suddenly went blank. He couldn't remember any of the thousands of French words he had learned over the years.
Although language can be forgotten, instincts cannot. Lin Hai began to breathe heavily and grabbed her shoulder tightly - the body of this French princess from four hundred years ago was so soft, just like holding a gentle sheep, he then leaned on the shepherd's chest.
They were too close to each other, so close that Lin Hai couldn't see her face clearly again, and could only feel her rapid breathing and tempting curves.
In this dark museum's secret room, in this miraculous night of oil paintings, Lin Hai couldn't hide his excitement anymore. After panting heavily for a moment, he began to call her name: "Marguerite! Marguerite!"
Marguerite raised her head and answered: "(in French) It's me! I've been waiting for you for a long time, hurry up and save me, save me!"
The last two words were still "aider moi." Lin Hai didn't understand what he was supposed to save her from. Was it to rescue her from the painting?
Yes, since she had already walked out of the painting, he couldn't let her go back. Lin Hai touched the back of his head, grabbed Marguerite's hand, and walked backwards.
He fumbled his way out of the secret room door and aimed his mobile phone screen outside. Although it was still pitch black, Lin Hai seemed to hear a sound of footsteps.
Marguerite held his hand tightly and whispered in his ear: "(in French) Hurry up and go, Nostradamus is coming to get me."
"Who are you talking about?" Lin Hai replied in French.
But Marguerite seemed so nervous that she said, "Don't ask, let's escape quickly, otherwise you will die." The terrible sound of footsteps seemed to be getting closer and faster.
He quickly grabbed Margaret's hand and ran towards the museum hall. The sound of their footsteps broke the silence, and the light from the phone screen scattered everywhere, flashing ghostly figures on the walls.
Lin Hai felt like they were running around like headless flies in the dark night of the museum. They were surrounded by oil paintings from several hundred years ago, and it was as if they had returned to the Louvre of Louis XIII and were playing a deadly game with the Three Musketeers or D'Artagnan.
While running, he asked, "Who is this person you mentioned?"
"Nosferatu. You don't even know him?" Margaret paused in the darkness and said softly, "He's a ghost."
At that moment, the ghost had caught up. Lin Hai turned around and used his phone to take a look, only to see a huge black figure rushing towards them.
Margaret was right. If Lin Hai fell into the hands of this "thing," he would undoubtedly die.
In order to "aider" Margaret and himself, Lin Hai had to get rid of this ghost.
He took Margaret and rushed into a corridor, where paintings hung on both sides. They ran in the dark corridor, and Margaret's long hair fluttered, with a few strands hitting Lin Hai's face.
The long and winding corridor was like a huge maze. They seemed to have turned several circles, but the footsteps behind them never disappeared. The black shadow was always a few meters behind them, as if it could swallow them at any moment.
When Lin Hai could hardly run, he suddenly saw a bright light ahead. Like a drowning person grabbing onto the last straw, he pulled Margaret and ran desperately towards it. It turned out to be an emergency escape passage that was not locked even after the museum closed at night.
They immediately rushed into the passage and found that there were stairs up and down under the illumination of the phone screen. However, the stairs going down were already locked with an iron gate, so they could only climb up in a panic. Lin Hai ran up several floors with a wheeze, while Margaret was exhausted.
When they reached the last flight of stairs, there was a locked iron gate in front of them. Fortunately, the door was locked from the inside, and Lin Hai easily opened it. When they rushed out of the last door, they found that they had climbed to the rooftop.
The night sky was full of stars, and there were towering buildings all around. The city's eternal lights illuminated the rooftop. Margaret also looked up, staring at the new world around her as if she had arrived in heaven. Lin Hai wondered if this was the first time she had faced the night sky in over four hundred years.
Under the city's night sky, Linhai finally saw her in full view. Her attire, from over four hundred years ago in the French court, was particularly striking on this high rooftop, as if it were a scene from a Western opera with the rooftop as the stage and the endless city as the backdrop, with the leading lady being none other than the historical Queen Margaret.
At this moment, her expression was complex. Was it the excitement of regaining her freedom or the sadness of leaving her own era? No, it was not the time for sentimentality yet. The ghost named Nochadamas would be here soon, and they needed to find a way to leave quickly.
Linhai noticed a staircase next to the rooftop and quickly pulled Margaret towards it. Despite her long dress, she carefully climbed down. It turned out to be a fire escape staircase, installed on the outside wall of the building. Since there was another building nearby, it was not visible from the outside.
Along this life-saving fire escape, they quickly descended several floors, but ended up suspended in mid-air. It turned out that the fire escape did not reach the ground and there was still about three meters of distance left. Below was a narrow and silent alley, filled with many black garbage bags.
No, they couldn't hold on any longer. Linhai decided to jump. Fortunately, there were many things in the garbage bags below, which acted as an air cushion, allowing Linhai to land unharmed. He waved his hand up: "Come down quickly, it's okay."
Margaret hesitated for a while, but finally let go and jumped down. Linhai caught her and they fell together onto the garbage bags.
They were both stuck in the garbage bags, their bodies entangled together. Linhai felt tenderness in his hands, and Margaret moaned softly a few times, turning her head away shyly.
It was difficult for Linhai to climb up, but he finally managed to pull Margaret out of the garbage bags. The bags were wrapped tightly, so they didn't look dirty at all. There was a dim streetlight in the alley, illuminating Margaret's pale face and her attire from over four hundred years ago. It felt as if a painting had come to life and everything was like a dream.
"Let's escape quickly," he whispered, pulling Margaret out of the alley. They were no longer in the Western Art Museum, but outside on a small road.
There weren't many people on this road, but if someone saw Margaret's attire, they would be scared to death. They ran out for a long way before finally getting into a taxi. Margaret seemed startled by the car, as her era only had horse-drawn carriages. Fortunately, the place where they hailed the taxi had no streetlights, and the driver didn't get a good look at Margaret's attire. It was only after she nervously sat down in the taxi that the driver saw her face in the rearview mirror, but foreigners taking taxis were common, so he didn't pay too much attention.
The driver asked them where they were going, and Lin Hai was a bit confused. He didn't know where to take someone from over four hundred years ago. Should he bring her back to his dorm room? After a moment's hesitation, he suddenly thought of a place - the old house.
The taxi raced towards the city center and quickly drove onto the elevated highway. The night in Shanghai outside the window was full of lights and colors, like flying through a jungle. Margaret leaned against the car window, staring blankly at the scenery in front of her. It was so different from the era she lived in. It felt like she was dreaming to be on a speeding car for the first time.
Suddenly, she turned around and asked Lin Hai, "Where is this?"
Lin Hai stared into her eyes and replied, "Shanghai, China."
"China?" She shook her head, revealing a strange expression. "I never imagined I would come to such a distant place."
"Margaret, the world has become smaller. China and France are not far away."
By now, the taxi had come off the elevated highway and stopped on the road near the old house. After they got out of the car, the driver saw Margaret's dress under the street lamp and sneered, "Foreigners always like to act recklessly."
Fortunately, it was already late, and the alleyway was quiet. No one noticed Lin Hai and Margaret as they ran to the old house.
Lin Hai held her hand tightly as they walked up the dark staircase. The wooden boards creaked until he opened the door to the old house.
"I'm sorry, I can only bring you here for now."
Margaret was a French princess and queen from over four hundred years ago. She was used to living in a grand palace, but she didn't seem displeased by the shabby old house in front of her. She was instead excited as she looked at the ceiling, the room, even breathing in the air of the old house. She gratefully said, "Thank you, you saved me. You are my benefactor."
Lin Hai silently looked at her face, which he first saw ten years ago in this old house. Suddenly, he couldn't help but reach out and stroke her hair. Margaret didn't refuse, but Lin Hai withdrew his hand. He knew he couldn't lose his composure because the woman in front of him wasn't an ordinary person; she was a ghost who came out of a painting over four hundred years ago.
But Margaret held onto his hand and asked, "What's your name?"
"My name is Lin Hai."
The two of them fell silent after that. Lin Hai didn't know what to do now that Margaret had emerged from the painting, and there was no going back. Although she was a ghost from more than four hundred years ago, she had a living body, so what should he do?
It was already midnight, and being alone with this beautiful foreign woman in a room made Lin Hai feel particularly awkward. He thought of a few French words and said softly, "I'm sorry, I should leave. You can stay here tonight."
But she grabbed Lin Hai's hand again. "No, I'm afraid. I'm afraid Nostradamus will come after me again."
Margaret's eyes were almost pleading, and Lin Hai's heart immediately softened. He nodded involuntarily. "Okay, I'll stay and keep you company."
Actually, there was nowhere for Lin Hai to go in the middle of the night, but the little attic upstairs could be slept in. What about Margaret? Did she need to sleep in the painting? This made Lin Hai even more confused about what to do, but out of Chinese courtesy, he should at least prepare a bed for this "guest."
But the steel bed in the bedroom was bare and not fit for sleeping. Lin Hai asked Margaret to wait for him in the old house, then quickly ran out. Fortunately, the 24-hour shop nearby sold bedding, and he bought a set of sheets, blankets, and pillows, then hurried back to the old house.
Lin Hai made up the steel bed and spread the sheets and blankets on it, so at least it was now suitable for sleeping. Then he opened the door to the small bathroom and showed Margaret how to use these things, feeling a bit ridiculous. Did the person in the painting need these things?
He worked until after one o'clock in the morning before he couldn't hold on any longer and climbed up to the little attic. He instructed Margaret not to open the windows or door, and to call him if anything happened.
Margaret was like a gentle lamb, nodding obediently to everything Lin Hai said.
Lin Hai lay on the little wooden bed, staring blankly at the wall. The woman he had seen ten years ago in this room was now alive and in front of him. Fate really played tricks on people.
He sighed lightly, too busy to recall everything that had happened today, and fell asleep under the faint moonlight shining through the old window.
My ears began to ache again, and I couldn't even look at the scenery outside the porthole. I had to chew my gum desperately. The Airbus was descending, emitting a tremendous roar. When the plane began to taxi smoothly, I realized that I was already on French soil.
It took more than ten hours to fly from Shanghai to Paris, crossing eight time zones and dozens of countries along the way, leaving me exhausted. But I couldn't help but think that in the days of the Crusades, Marco Polo took several years to travel to China. Now, that amount of time can be considered nothing more than a blink of an eye.
Due to the seven-hour time difference, I had already set my watch to French time. It was 7:30 pm Greenwich Mean Time, and from the porthole, I could see that Charles de Gaulle International Airport was shrouded in darkness, with bright lights shining on the tarmac.
After disembarking, I joined the queue and went through the complex immigration process, finally stepping into French territory.
At the passenger exit, I looked around for a long time with my travel bag before I finally saw a Chinese face in the crowd - it was Yu Li.
Although we had agreed that he would pick me up at the airport, it was still a warm surprise to see a familiar face in a foreign land. I waved my hand and jumped up and down towards him.
In fact, when he came back to China to celebrate the Chinese New Year a few months ago, we played together. But now he had changed, most notably his hair, which was almost shaved bald, making his face look more mature. Compared to him, I felt very "tender".
Yu Li took my travel bag, and his body was still so strong that he didn't look inferior among foreigners. With a smirk on his face, he said, "I heard you're pretty hot in China, but you still look the same."
"Really? You're better off than me, traveling around Europe every day. I've been envious of you for a long time," I said.
As we chatted, we passed through the crowded Charles de Gaulle Airport and walked a long way out of the hall to the parking lot.
Yu Li drove here, in a small Renault car, which had a small engine, but the French loved this type of sexy little car, and it looked good in the parking lot.
After getting into the car, Yu Li quickly drove out of the airport. The night outside Paris was similar to Shanghai, and it took more than half an hour to enter the urban area. It was said that Paris at night was several times more beautiful than during the day. I leaned against the car window, looking around, but Yu Li soon shattered my illusions with a single sentence: "Don't bother, you can't see the Eiffel Tower from here."
This sentence finally made me give up hope. After more than ten hours of flying, I was already exhausted, so I curled up in the car and closed my eyes to rest. I didn't know how long we had been driving, but the car finally stopped. I rubbed my eyes and looked around; all I could see were nineteenth-century mansions that looked a bit like Oxford in England.
Yu Li took me out of the car, and I realized we had arrived at the University of Voltaire, located in the Latin Quarter on the left bank of the Seine River. This area is also home to many universities and cultural institutions in Paris. As the name suggests, the university was named after the great thinker Voltaire and has a history of over 150 years. The surrounding buildings are all from the 19th century. Speaking of Voltaire, he has a special connection with us Chinese. This 18th-century French Enlightenment philosopher was fascinated by Chinese culture and admired all aspects of ancient Chinese literature and systems. He believed that China was the object of European civilization that needed to be studied and even adapted the Chinese play "Orphan of Zhao".
We walked through a long corridor and entered what looked like a restaurant. A small, white-haired old man was waiting for me at the door. Yu Li immediately introduced me to Professor Orléans. The professor was exceptionally short, dressed in a neat suit, and had a head full of curly white hair, which gave him a bit of flair. He warmly shook my hand, and I couldn't understand what he was babbling about, as Yu Li translated for me. "The professor said he has been dreaming of your arrival and asked if you brought the parchment with you?"
Actually, I understood that the professor was dreaming about the parchment, not me. I patted my travel bag and said, "It's right here." The professor seemed eager to see the parchment but quickly restrained himself. After all, France is a country with Western etiquette, and it was inevitable to invite the guest who had traveled a long distance to eat first.
Although French cuisine is well-known, it was bland for my Chinese palate. During the meal, Professor Orléans talked incessantly, but Yu Li only translated a few pleasantries, saying it didn't matter whether I listened or not. After dinner, the professor's true colors came out, and he asked me for the parchment. Although I was exhausted at this point, my mind was still clear. I explained that I did not own the parchment but had borrowed it to the professor for research purposes, so it was necessary to go through the proper procedures. Yu Li said it was not a problem, as they frequently receive artifacts for appraisal, and their university has a specialized institution to handle them.
But the professor was still unwilling and insisted on seeing the actual parchment. I agreed to his request, and they took me to the History Department building. At this moment, this old building was almost empty, and the sound of our footsteps echoed in the darkness, sounding eerie and terrifying.
In Professor Orléans' office, I opened my travel bag, and inside the innermost compartment was a tightly wrapped metal box. I slowly took out the metal box, and the professor's eyes were fixed on it. Yu Li advised me not to open the box, and after examining it, he nodded and said, "This metal box was manufactured in France in the early 20th century. The upper class commonly used this type of box to package valuable items."