Chereads / The secret of Margaret / Chapter 22 - Chapter 22 From Shanghai to Paris (15)  

Chapter 22 - Chapter 22 From Shanghai to Paris (15)  

"The evidence is in the sheepskin book. The professor and I have deciphered it completely. The 16th-century text records the process very clearly, and someone must have summarized this information. How did Margaret leave her valuable information? She thought of the opportunity for the court painter to paint her portrait. So she asked her mother to invite a painter into the palace, and under close surveillance by others, the painter painted a portrait of her. But we can be sure that she left valuable information in that painting, which could be passed on to her unborn child, so that the child could become the ruler of France and even the world in the future."

"I see. So, the portrait of Margaret is actually a code that indicates the direction of breaking the 'Louis IX mystery'?"

"You're so right. The portrait of Margaret was probably painted before anyone could tell she was pregnant, but she gave birth to a healthy boy a few months later. Unfortunately, the baby was immediately sent away by Queen Catherine, and no one knows where he went. Margaret could only cry every day, and her husband eventually took her to Valois. "

"I am also moved by that thrilling history. What happened to the child?"

"Don't worry. He grew up in the countryside, and when he was in his teens, he finally found out about his origins and tried his best to find his biological mother. But by then, Margaret had been abandoned by her husband, and she had lost her youth and beauty and spent her later years in the Notre Dame. According to the record in the sheepskin book, when her son finally found her after many difficulties, she was already seriously ill and dying."

"It's really a touching thousand-mile search for a mother. Even Dumas couldn't write such a story."

"Before she died, Margaret gave the sheepskin book to her son, saying that whoever got that secret would rule the world. However, she didn't have time to say where the treasure was hidden and died in her son's arms. It was a great regret."

"I finally can't help but sigh. Does the secret end there?"

"No, the secret is hidden in that painting. Margaret's son knew this, but he didn't know what the secret was because it was too subtle in the painting, and Margaret didn't have time to say it before she died. He guarded that painting all his life, and even turned white-haired, but he never found out what the secret was."

"It's really ironic."

"Margaret and Ramol's illegitimate son also had descendants, who reproduced in the south of France and had no contact with other branches of the Ramol family, completely isolated from the world, guarding this painting and this sheepskin book for generations. They kept adding some content to the sheepskin book, so we were able to decipher it. But I guess for over four hundred years, they have never really understood the secret hidden in that painting."

"How did the painting end up outside then?"

"Have you forgotten? Last time we checked the information on the oil painting 'Margaret,' the database of art collections at Voltaire University recorded the collection history of this painting. Before the French Revolution, this painting was always kept by a family in the south of France, which was probably the Ramol family. Later, the Ramol family may have participated in a rebellion for some reason, and was suppressed by the revolutionaries. The painting 'Margaret' was confiscated by the government and became Napoleon's private collection. It changed hands several times over the decades until after the Paris Commune uprising, when it was collected by the Saint-Louis Museum."

Here, I finally let out a long breath. The secret of the parchment book was right here, it recorded the secrets of the oil painting "Margaret," and the 400-year-old oil painting "Margaret" held important information about the "Louis IX Mystery." What was this important information?

But now, the most crucial thing is that the real "Margaret" oil painting from 400 years ago was stolen back in the 1930s and taken by Lin Hai's grandfather to faraway China, and its whereabouts are still unknown to this day. Without seeing the true painting, it is impossible to decipher the code in the painting!

But where is the true "Margaret" painting located?

Is it in China, in France, or has it already been destroyed? In this vast world, where can we look for this painting? Now, the only hope is in Lin Hai's hands.

Can Lin Hai find the real painting left by his grandfather?

I could only sigh hopelessly because the possibility seemed too remote.

I couldn't stay here any longer. I wanted to leave Paris as soon as possible and go back to help Lin Hai, who is now in extreme danger.

Hastily saying goodbye to the study, as I walked out of the door, I subconsciously turned my head back. I saw the dim light shining on Professor Orléans' face, revealing a hideous reflection. The professor looked out the window with a meaningful gaze, which made me shiver. It seemed like something had already possessed his body and was lurking in the dark, ready to devour everyone in the building.

Midnight.

The rain covered the sky and the passing cars splashed water on the road, soaking Lin Hai's clothes. He held up his umbrella and shouted loudly for Margaret. She ran out of the internet cafe without an umbrella, and Lin Hai was worried that she might catch a cold in the rain.

He had been searching for more than two hours, running through several nearby streets, and almost losing his voice. But he knew that Margaret was unfamiliar with the area, and it was impossible for her to run too far away. She must still be somewhere nearby.

In the vast night rain, Lin Hai felt his heart was being cut with a knife, with Margaret's figure constantly swaying in front of his eyes. He kept asking himself, "Why?"

He used to believe every word that Margaret said. Every gesture, every move, every word and every action of this French princess from 400 years ago moved his heart, and even a glance from her could make his heart beat fast. But now it had all become a dream, like a huge castle made of sand, which was crushed by a single wave.

"She is not the ghost in the oil painting at all. Why did she lie to me? Who is she really?" Lin Hai silently asked himself, trembling step by step back to the internet cafe's door. He saw two figures swaying under the neon lights that were shining all night long.

He quietly walked two steps forward with his umbrella and then discovered that one of them was Margaret. She was shaking and standing under the eaves like an injured little deer. The other person was a strange foreigner wearing a black windbreaker, with a pale face and a hooked nose that made people feel chilling.

Margaret was talking to the man, and they didn't notice Lin Hai approaching quietly. Lin Hai cautiously hid behind an advertisement board and listened to their conversation. The man was speaking French and commanded Margaret, "Hurry up and go back to that kid!"

"No, he already knows that the painting is fake, and he has seen through my lies."

"Then you should go back to him and continue to control him."

Margaret answered painfully, "I can't do it!"

Then, Lin Hai heard a "smack" sound and realized that the man had slapped Margaret, followed by a vicious curse.

But Margaret didn't seem to falter at all, she just stubbornly said, "je l'aime!"

This sentence means "I love him."

Instantly, "je l'aime" pierced Lin Hai's heart like a needle, and he could only bite his lips tightly to prevent himself from making a sound.

The French man almost couldn't believe his ears and said loudly, "Are you crazy?"

Unexpectedly, Margaret rushed out, but her hand was firmly held by the man, her body exposed to the rain, and she struggled desperately, the situation seemed extremely dangerous.

At this point, Lin Hai couldn't bear it anymore. He jumped out from behind the billboard, pushed the man away, and then tightly grabbed Margaret's hand.

Lin Hai's sudden appearance naturally surprised Margaret. She hadn't even had time to speak when Lin Hai had already pulled her to run across the street.

Margaret subconsciously followed him, running through the streets in the pouring rain, and suddenly crossed to the other side of the alley, leaving behind only the French man who was cursing loudly.

The umbrella was thrown somewhere, and they ran all the way in the dark and rainy night, splashing water on their clothes and making strange sounds on the ground. They had no intention of stopping, like slaves running out of their cages, wanting to enjoy a moment of freedom. Until Lin Hai tightly hugged her and repeated in her ear, "Don't leave me... don't leave me..."

Margaret opened her wet eyes, her hair sticking to her eyes, trembling and saying, "je suis désolée!"

"Don't apologize. Look at how wet you are. Let's find a place to hide quickly."

Lin Hai pulled her through the rain alley and called a friend under a eave. After a lot of effort, his friend finally gave them an empty house.

Then they ran to the other side of the street and hailed a taxi to get there.

The empty house of the friend was very close, on the fourth floor of a multi-story building, one bedroom and one living room, ready to be rented out next week. Lin Hai knocked on his friend's door in the middle of the night, got the key and opened the empty house.

He dragged Margaret to the bathroom. Fortunately, the water heater was still working, and he knew that Margaret could use it, so he let her take a shower first, and then he ran out to buy some clothes to change into.

There was a 24-hour convenience store nearby, and he bought some simple clothes and hurried back. Lin Hai stuffed the clothes through the crack in the bathroom door, and soon saw her come out wearing clean clothes, with steam rising from her hair and her face much rosier. Thankfully, she was very healthy and didn't seem to catch a cold.

At this point, Margaret seemed a little embarrassed, and lowered her head to say, "You also got wet in the rain. Go take a shower."

Lin Hai nodded blankly and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. When the hot water washed over his head, his heart was blank. He dared not think further. He would rather believe that Margaret was a person from four hundred years ago and that Nostradamus was still chasing after him, everything was still in a dream.

However, reality is always cruel.

After taking a shower and changing clothes, Linhai saw Margaret holding a small object that looked like a miniature microphone, only two or three centimeters in size. She said lightly, "Destroy it."

"Why?" Linhai asked.

"As long as this thing is with us, they will be able to find us at any time."

"What do you mean?" Linhai took the small object from her hand and examined it carefully. "Is this a position sensor?"

Margaret nodded shamefully.

Linhai seemed incredulous. "You've been carrying this thing with you all along? No wonder Nochadamas has been able to find us. It's not because he's tracking your scent, but receiving the electromagnetic signal from this thing."

"I'm sorry," Margaret said, bowing her head in shame. "Please destroy it quickly, otherwise they will come back."

After hesitating for a moment, Linhai found a hammer from the room and smashed the sensor to pieces in the hallway.

Margaret finally breathed a sigh of relief. "They won't find us anymore."

Linhai was silent for a moment and then suddenly turned back and asked, "Who are 'they' that you mentioned?"

"They are..." Margaret took a step back, lowered her head and said softly, "My family."

"Your family? Then who are you?"

She paused for a long time before answering, "I am Margaret Lamarre."

"No, Margaret Lamarre is the French princess and queen from four hundred years ago. She has long since died and turned into ashes."

"Margaret is my name, and my surname is Lamarre."

Linhai was stunned for a moment, and slowly said her name, "Margaret Lamarre?"

"Yes, that's the name my parents gave me."

"Lamarre?" He pursed his lips and thought carefully before suddenly asking, "Is it the Lamarre family from 'The Red and the Black'?"

"No, we are not that noble family, but we are direct descendants of De Lamarre and Queen Margaret."

"Oh, in the letter my grandfather left me, he also mentioned the family living in seclusion in the south of France. You are the Lamarre family, right?"

Margaret finally nodded, "Yes, the man you saw earlier, my uncle, is named Victor."

"I remember now. The person who wrote 'aider moi' in my palm at the library entrance, that was him, right?" Linhai didn't wait for Margaret's reply and said to himself, "Yes, it must have been him. And the person who pretended to be Nochadamas to scare us, was also him?"

"You're right. The reason he followed us all the time was because I had a position sensor on me."

At this point, Linhai had already guessed some of it. He stared into Margaret's emerald eyes and asked, "Enough, tell me, what's going on?"

"Do you not understand? In 1936, our La Morel family stole the oil painting "Margaret", but the daughter of the clan leader, Mathilde, eloped with your grandfather, Lin Danqing, to China. They not only took the real "Margaret" painting, but also took an ancient scroll made of parchment."

"So now, almost seventy years later, you are coming to Shanghai with us to find the real "Margaret" painting during the exhibition at the St. Louis Museum in China?"

She shook her head, "Not just that, but also because some experts recently suspected that the painting in the St. Louis Museum collection is a fake. In addition to finding the real painting, we need to steal the fake one to prevent the truth of what happened seventy years ago from being revealed."

"If it's just stealing a fake painting, why did you need to find me?"

"Because you are the key to finding the real painting. Our family has done secret investigations and found that your grandfather died ten years ago, and your father does not know the truth. As the only grandson of Lin Danqing and a French major in college, you are our breakthrough point."

"So you chose me and arranged a huge trap for me from the beginning. You lured me to the Western Art Museum and even used yourself to attract me, making me think you had escaped from the painting and believed in the ghostly words of the ghosts in the painting. I even thought that there was a Nocathunmas coming to kill me, which almost drove me crazy!" Lin Hai trembled with pain. "Why, Margaret, why did you deceive me like this?"

"I'm sorry!" She repeated the words, lowering her head. "They forced me to do this..."

"Don't hide it anymore. Tell me everything, and I will do everything in my power to help you."

Margaret blinked her translucent eyes and said with trembling lips, "I was born in a remote valley in southern France, where the entire La Morel family has lived almost cut off from the world for hundreds of years. When I was very young, I looked very much like Margaret Princess four hundred years ago, which caught the attention of the family. From my teens, I became more and more like Princess Margaret, and they even compared me to the portrait of the queen in her youth, and found that I looked exactly the same! This must be a genetic factor in the family, because we are descendants of de La Morel and Queen Margaret's illegitimate child, and we have Margaret's blood flowing in our veins."

"I understand." Lin Hai nodded. "After several generations of reproduction, the genes for Queen Margaret's appearance from four hundred years ago have completely passed down to you, and there is indeed a phenomenon of inherited traits across generations."

"So the family decided to train me as the second Queen Margaret. They forbade me from leaving the family and made me live in a sixteenth-century environment. They used the rules from four hundred years ago to educate me, making me familiar with court etiquette, the history of ancient France, and even changing the way I speak into courtly language. In short, they 'copied' a Princess Margaret and made me look and behave exactly like the Margaret in the oil painting."

"But you are you. Your name is Margaret La Morel, not Queen Margaret from four hundred years ago."