L'affaire du messager fantôme - Le récit d'une âme qui quitte son corps

Chapitre 12

Of course, this idea is ridiculous; how could mental illness be contagious? However, the human emotion of fear can indeed be contagious. Was it her roommate Qingyou's suicide that caused Xu Wenya to experience intense fear, leading to her schizophrenia? While this is the most likely explanation, many believe there are other reasons. This reason lurks like a ghost in some corner of the girls' dormitory, terrifying these girls.

In the afternoon, the teachers finally left. Chunyu, like a prisoner just released, pressed herself against the window, breathing heavily, as if she had already...

I have been deprived of my freedom for a long time.

What is Xu Wenya doing in the hospital right now? Is she constantly saying "monkey," or circling along the room wall? Chunyu never wants to recall that experience again, but who can forget it?

Yes, Chunyu understands Xu Wenya and knows why she went mad. But the only mystery is—what role did the last text message on Xu Wenya's phone play?

The sender of that text message was a number that Chunyu recognized—741111. Chunyu was immediately stunned. She quickly checked the other text messages on the phone, but none of them could be saved; only this last one remained.

The phone is currently in Xu Wenya's locker, along with all her belongings left in her dormitory, and they are all awaiting the school and her parents' decision.

Chunyu's fears had finally come true. On the night Qingyou had her accident, Chunyu had seen the same text message on Qingyou's phone. And yesterday, Officer Ye Xiao also told her that there was a similar text message on Sulan's phone before she hanged herself.

=The game is over. Just as Qingyou's death is "", Xu Wenya's madness is also "", so who will be "" next?

Clearly, these mysterious text messages all originated from the same number, and it was also this number, "741111," that led Chunyu on her midnight journey into "hell." Following this line of reasoning, the deaths of Qingyou and Sulan, as well as Xu Wenya's madness, should all be significantly related to this number.

Every night, Chunyu would be dragged into "hell" by this number, experiencing a kind of roaming similar to text messages—thinking about this, she couldn't help but tremble. Looking back at her dormitory, there were four girls in total, one of whom had already died, and now another had gone mad. A terrifying aura, like a plague, permeated every corner of the place.

She suddenly noticed a book on her bedside table, "The Hellish Legends of Early Human Civilizations," which she had borrowed from the library.

The terrible experiences of the past two days had left her with absolutely no desire to read the book. She had flipped through a few pages, but simply couldn't bear to continue. Chunyu remembered her promise; someone else was waiting to read this book. Since she couldn't read it herself, she should hurry and give it to that person.

Chunyu would never forget that person—she went to the art department to find Gao Xuan.

So she tried to forget the unpleasantness of the morning, grabbed the book, and ran out of the dormitory.

This university has tens of thousands of students and dozens of departments; the entire campus is as big as a maze.

As for the art department, Chunyu had never been there before. She asked several people on the way and spent more than half an hour before she finally found the art department, which was located at the other end of the school.

The art department building looked very grand, with postmodern building materials and design. There were many modern sculptures in front of the entrance, and the people coming and going were all handsome young men and beautiful young women with an artistic temperament. In comparison, Chunyu's department looked really shabby.

At this moment, Chunyu felt a pang of regret. She really should have worn her best clothes, something befitting the upscale atmosphere of the place. She walked into the building with her head down, and right in front of her was an advertisement for an art exhibition. It turned out that a student art exhibition was being held there, free to university students.

The building was designed so avant-garde that Chunyu couldn't find any other way in; it seemed that the only way to get inside was through the art exhibition hall.

Chunyu loved drawing as a child, and in middle school, influenced by comics, she especially loved drawing cartoon girls. After entering university, she suddenly realized how naive she had been, and never touched anime again. As for the so-called "high art" in the art department, she could only keep her distance.

Spring Rain slowly entered the hall. Many paintings hung on both walls, each illuminated by soft lighting, with explanatory text below. The art exhibition seemed quite formal.

She simply couldn't understand those paintings. Most of them were too abstract, just meaningless piles of colors. It seemed that only incomprehensibility was synonymous with art.

The art exhibition was unusually quiet today; perhaps everyone had already been there in the past few days. There were hardly any people in the hall, and Chunyu could clearly hear her own footsteps. She lost interest in looking at the paintings and walked to the back of the hall. Suddenly, something caught her eye. Chunyu slowly turned her head and saw the painting hanging on the wall—an oil painting about a meter square. The upper part of the painting depicted black clouds, below which were dark mountains, their peaks rising sharply as if carved by a knife. The slopes seemed to be covered with dense, black forests, a scene of a cold, medieval European forest. In the center of the painting were a dozen or so withered trees, their branches twisted and grotesquely reaching towards the sky. Hanging from each tree were several people, all of European physique and appearance. Most of them were almost naked, reflecting the tradition of European figure art. Beneath the trees burned fiercely, and each person hanging from the trees endured excruciating pain from the flames. Some had their feet burned off, while others were reduced to skeletons.

In the lower right corner of this painting, Chunyu saw a Western woman hanging from a tree, her hands tied behind her back, her blonde hair flowing freely, and flames burning the soles of her feet—this is the painting!

Chunyu immediately took out her phone and opened the MMS image she had received in the middle of the night. Then, she carefully compared it with the painting on the wall. Yes, the painting in the MMS was exactly the same as the lower right corner of the painting in front of her; it must have been photographed.

The MMS message I received last night was a "reward" for her passing through the underground labyrinth. Why choose a part of this painting?

This unexpected discovery made her heart race.

Chunyu examined the painting on the wall more closely; both its colors and outlines exuded a sinister atmosphere. In the dim light...

Under the light of the oil painting, each figure is suffering, giving the audience a strong visual impact; at least Chunyu was shocked for a moment.

The entire exhibition hall became even quieter, and there seemed to be no one else around. Chunyu quietly let out a sigh of relief, and then carefully walked up to the painting.

Below the frame was a brief description: "Copy of 'The Third Level of Hell' (Italian) by Mazzolini: At that moment, Chunyu gasped. The painting was actually titled 'The Third Level of Hell,' and just last night she had texted 'The Third Level of Hell.' No wonder they gave her a partial view of the painting as a 'reward.' '(Italian) Mazzolini' must be the artist, but Chunyu had never heard of this painter before."

But what surprised her even more was the words "Copywriting: Gao Xuan" that appeared at the end. Wasn't the person she came to see at the art department today named Gao Xuan?

Could this oil painting really be a copy made by the man she met in the library? Unable to tell whether it was surprise or excitement, Chunyu covered her mouth, afraid of making a sound and breaking the quiet atmosphere.

But Chunyu couldn't resist reaching out and touching the oil painting.

The moment my finger touched the screen, I felt a kind of electric shock-like sensation that flowed through my entire body.

Like all oil paintings, the surface of the painting is uneven, left by paint of varying thicknesses, like touching the skin of an old man, full of wrinkles from the years.

Just as Chunyu was stroking the painting with an almost obsessive passion, she suddenly heard footsteps behind her. "Miss, I'm sorry, you can't touch the painting with your hands."

It was a young man's voice, and his tone was relatively calm.

Chunyu immediately withdrew her hand and lowered her head in shame. Yes, she had just forgotten the rules of the art exhibition: "You can only use your eyes, not your hands."

The other person walked up to her, paused for a moment, and said, "Excuse me, if I remember correctly, do I know you?"

Chunyu didn't understand what he meant, so she slowly raised her head and finally saw his double pupil-like eyes.

It was him—the man I met in the library. He had beautiful hands and a face, and a pair of deep, bright, and alluring eyes.

His name is Gao Xuan.

Gao Xuan recognized Chunyu's face and immediately smiled, "Oh, it's you! What brings you to our art exhibition?" "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to touch it..." For some reason, Chunyu suddenly became very nervous. She pointed to the oil painting behind her and said, "I just couldn't help myself and forgot the rule of not touching it." "Forget it, it's just a copy anyway, not worth much. But if it were a priceless original, you'd be in big trouble."

Chunyu blushed again. She took out the book in her hand and said, "I came to give you this book." "Oh, it's this book. I almost forgot about it." He took the book, "The Hellish Legends of Early Human Civilization," from Chunyu's hand. "You're amazing. You finished it so quickly? This isn't a book suitable for girls."

Hearing his last two sentences, Chunyu blushed even more: "Actually, I didn't understand this book. I think you need it more."

Gao Xuan smiled slightly again, revealing his dimples. Chunyu's heart pounded even harder.

Suddenly, Chunyu seemed to remember something and pointed to the painting, asking, "Did you really paint this?" "I copied this painting in a European art museum. The original was by the Italian painter Mazzolini." So he had actually painted in Europe. Chunyu secretly admired his skill, but didn't show it in her voice. "Why is it called 'The Third Level of Hell'? That name is kind of scary." "There's a special reason for that. It's a long story; I'll tell you about it next time."

"Will there be a next time?" Chunyu nodded slightly. "There will definitely be a next time."

At this moment, Gao Xuan stared into her eyes and said, "Actually, I've been observing you from behind for a long time."

I see you standing quietly before this painting. Your black coat gives off a cool, austere feel, perfectly complementing the colors of the painting. You probably didn't notice, but the light shines on your profile, creating a unique interplay of light and shadow, like a halo from an oil painting enveloping your silhouette. And the way you gaze at the painting is so like that of women in Renaissance paintings, classically serene and facing the artist. All masterpieces are created because of the model's captivating gaze.