Chapter 48 He had been looking for her for two years...
Louis Armstrong Airport – This is the largest airport in New Orleans.
Irene was carrying a small bag and looking up at the magnificent airport in front of her. She couldn't help but tightly grasp the shoulder strap of her bag and stepped into the airport security gate.
After going through security, checking in, taking the shuttle bus, and finally sitting down on the narrow seat in the economy class, Irene suddenly felt something real.
When this plane lands, she will be in New Orleans.
This thought made Irene feel like she suddenly fell onto the yellow earth from the clouds where she had been floating for nearly a month, and she felt solid ground under her feet.
She hadn't been in New Orleans for long, but for some reason, she had become dependent on Leo during that time, to the point that her heart beat like she was drunk at the thought of the possibility of seeing him again.
Large clouds floated past the plane window. Irene let out a long breath, and her fingers, which were gripping the coffee cup with such force, turned white.
She stared at the blue sky and white clouds outside the window, and an indescribable tension rose in her heart.
Can I still travel back in time to see Leo?
If he could meet Leo, would he still remember who she was?
If Leo still remembered her, what would he do to her?
Irene turned her head and her face, pale with nervousness, was reflected in the porthole.
The excitement when getting on the plane seemed to fly away like a balloon as the air pressure dropped.
The reflection in the porthole seemed to have lost the color of even the rosy lips.
French Quarter Bourbon Street at night
"Hello miss, this is your room card, have a pleasant journey," the hotel waiter said with a gentle professional smile on his face.
Irene took the room card and followed the instructions in the elevator to enter her room.
It was just past ten o'clock and the day in New Orleans had just begun. She planned to go to Mrs. Soy's house to inquire about the previous information.
When she left, Mrs. Soy's grandson Ian was almost ten years old, just the age to remember things.
According to the time calculation, there should be about four generations in a hundred years, so there are at least eight generations in more than two hundred years. Even if their family bloodline has been passed down, they should all be Ian's seventh-generation great-grandsons now.
Coupled with the previous American Civil War and several economic crises.
Erin's heartbeat slowed down, she knew clearly that the possibility of her and Leo's affair being spread was extremely small.
But he still hopes for a comeback like a gambler who has lost all his money.
But what if?
In case anyone still remembers them.
Irene stood at the site of Mrs. Soy's house with a faint hope.
The house has now become completely different from before, and even the street in front of the house has become much wider.
Only the last name hanging next to the mailbox at the door looked familiar.
Irene rang the doorbell with great expectations, and someone came soon. The person who opened the door was a short-haired girl, who looked to be about seventeen or eighteen years old, with short hair dyed in bright pink.
"Excuse me, who are you?" The girl's voice was very lively.
"My name is Irene, and I was asked to find Mr. Ian's descendants."
"Looking for my dad?" The girl answered familiarly, "He'll be off work soon. Come in and have some hot tea first."
The girl seemed completely unguarded against strangers, as if strangers like Irene often knocked on their door.
But from another perspective, can you accept a stranger's invitation casually? Why did she invite Irene into the house so freely? Thinking of this, Irene didn't dare to go in.
Ian was already 10 years old in 1860. There was no way he could be the father of the girl in front of him. He could only have inherited the name from his ancestor, or they just happened to have the same name.
But what if they are not, what if this family is criminals?
Irene has always cherished her life. Even though this little girl dared to invite her in for tea, Irene didn't dare to go in.
What if there is drug in the tea?
Irene slapped her forehead and made up an excuse, "I suddenly remembered that I haven't brought some things over yet. How about this, I'll wait until your dad gets off work and then come over. I don't live far away, just on the next street, so it's very convenient to come over."
"Okay, he usually gets off work at 5:30. Today is Thursday and my dad has to go to the supermarket to buy discounted fruit, so he might be a little late. He will be home around 6 o'clock. It will be about the same if you come at 7 o'clock."
After saying goodbye, Irene turned and went into the alley next door to wait for Ian.
It was exactly the same as what the girl said. At less than half past six, a fat man carrying a bag of fruit opened the door while humming a little tune.
Perhaps it was a psychological effect, the more Irene looked at him, the more he looked like little Ian.
Irene gritted her teeth and made up her mind to take a gamble. She took out her cell phone and edited a text message to alert the police in ten minutes. She also bought a knife in the store and then rang the doorbell resolutely.
"Hello, may I ask you..." The person who opened the door was the fat man who had just brought some fruit. When he raised his eyes and saw Irene's appearance, the rest of the sentence was stuck in his mouth.
Irene clearly saw that he had pulled off the long string of decorations on the door handle, which was already shaky.
"Is your name Irene?"
"Yes." Irene was so nervous that her palms were sweating. She looked at the man without blinking, her heart pounding against her throat. "Do you know something?"
"Although it sounds unbelievable," the man looked at Irene as if he had seen some rare species, "but I have a portrait of you here."
The portrait is lifelike, depicting her standing on a boat that has just arrived at the New Orleans dock, looking at the coast. Everything from the small mole on the folds of her eyelids to the scar on her forehead from childhood is clearly visible.
It was like she was looking at herself in the mirror, no wonder Ian recognized her as soon as he saw her.
Irene swallowed hard. In the lower right corner of the portrait was written the drawing date - March 8, 1863. There was also a small, simplified version of a lion's head, which was the image on the cover of the little notebook she gave to Leo.
Even the curves of each semicircle on the lion's head were almost exactly the same as what she had drawn.
This is Irene's own little hobby. She likes to draw semicircles that are not quite round, as if this can be a way to take revenge on her sketching teacher who gave her low marks for the spheres she drew when she was a child - the teacher always said that her drawings were not round enough, so if that's the case, she might as well just draw them not round at all.
This habit has been maintained until now and was clearly copied by Leo.
Irene carefully touched the glass frame, and her fingertips seemed to be able to touch the fine lines through the cold touch.
To be fair, this painting is very well done, with solid lines and a reasonable structure, and it doesn't look like the work of a novice who has never painted before.
Did Leo find a master who was good at drawing portraits? How did he describe her appearance to the master? How would he introduce her to the master?
Almost two years after she disappeared, did Leo still remember her appearance so clearly?
How did he manage to survive these past two years? Irene felt very sad.
Ian carefully locked the portrait back into the safe. "This painting was insured for a huge sum many years ago, and the bank has been renewing the insurance. Our family took on the obligation to keep it, and we also received a sum of money for it, which is paid out annually. This money has helped my family get through many difficult times."
As he spoke, he took out a small notebook from the safe and handed it to Irene with a complicated look.
"This is in accordance with the contract. If someone who looks exactly like the portrait and is named Irene comes to me, I will give this to her."
The atmosphere was very heavy.
Irene took the book and said tentatively, "Don't you suspect that I had plastic surgery to look like this?"
"Of course not," Ian said with a smile, "You are the only one who has come to us in all these years, but you may have to go to the insurance company with me. After all these years, our family can finally get the custody fee."
"I didn't expect I'd be so lucky. My father and grandfather waited for you all their lives and never saw you. I almost thought your existence was fictional, but I didn't expect that I would actually see you." Ian seemed to have opened up a conversation box and enthusiastically told Irene about the fate of their family and this portrait.
Through this, Irene finally understood what Leo had done.
Leo got a large sum of money from somewhere. He first found the best insurance company in the world to take out huge insurance for the portrait and the contract. The insurance premium was deducted from the account every year. He also set up a related fund, and the income was used to pay the wages of Ian's family who kept the portrait. All the income other than the wages was kept in the bank until Irene was found. All the money in the bank would be divided equally between Ian's family and the insurance company. This was a very generous reward. The condition was that the insurance company and the bank must jointly recognize that there was no problem with Irene's appearance and identity, and forgery was of course impossible. It was said that only the real Irene could take out the money.
Irene asked, "How do banks and insurance companies confirm my identity?"
"I think there's a test form? I'm not sure. We'll know tomorrow. I've already made an appointment with the insurance company for eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
Irene left Ian's house in a daze and turned back to the hotel she had booked in advance.
Although Ian invited her to stay at his house, they were strangers after all, so Irene declined his proposal.
The hotel she is staying in now is diagonally opposite the doctor's clinic. The clinic seems to still be there, but the sign has completely changed from a 19th century dental master to a family-inherited gastroenterology clinic.
But at least he is still a doctor, unlike the tavern where he met Lucas before, which has now become a house rental agency.
Irene opened the little notebook she had just received from Ian.
Although the lion head painted on the cover is the same, the texture and grain of the paper are somewhat different from the one she made. It should be that Leo chose better paper for long-term preservation and remade the notebook.
I don’t know what Leo did with the notebook she made before. Irene thought about it while turning to the first page.
The book is in the form of a diary.
June 3, 1860
Irene is not in Mobile
June 15, 1860
Irene is not in Rochester
June 20, 1860
Erin is not in New Orleans
…
August 7, 1862
Erin is not in Texas
There was no date on the last page of the book, only one line: "I can't find Irene in the United States. I have to look for her somewhere else."
This line of words can even be considered beautiful, but the deep obsession revealed between the lines is like that of a calm madman.
Irene flipped through the diary again. She even opened the memo and downloaded a map of the United States, marking every city Leo had visited.
Turning to the last page, the map of the United States is full of red ticks.
Even the lowest island was not spared.
From the beginning to the end, Leo's handwriting became more and more neat, but the spelling of "Erin" went from being neat and clean at the beginning to becoming darker and darker at the end, with the force penetrating through the back of the paper. Several thick pages were pierced by the pen, and the dark black ink seeped into the next page.
The words seemed to contain deep hatred. Irene didn't even dare to imagine what kind of mood Leo was in when he wrote her name stroke by stroke.
Moreover, the handwriting has not faded at all after almost three hundred years, and it is still as bright and vivid as if it had just been written.
Is this the ink that should be used in the 19th century? Even with a scent? Could it be that Ian and the others had lied to her? Irene's suspicions came back. She carefully tore off the first and last pages of the diary, planning to wrap them up in an envelope and go downstairs to mail it to the trace identification agency.
The contrast is even more obvious when these two diaries are placed together.
The time span was from June 1860 to August 1862, a full two years, and his footprints were all over the United States. That is to say, Leo traveled all over the United States looking for her in these two years, but found nothing.
This is the only thing he has done in the past two years.
Why is Leo so obsessed with finding her?
Can such a deep love arise from a short time together? But if it is not love, what else can explain it? What is a deeper feeling than love?
Irene swallowed hard, her scalp slightly numb. It might be because she was not used to the climate after getting off the plane. Her throat was dry and sore, and it was difficult for her to swallow.
She thought that Leo might be persistent in looking for her, but she didn't expect that Leo had been looking for her for two years. Looking at the search route and time, he was basically on the road without stopping for a moment, let alone going to school. I'm afraid that even his rest time was on the boat.
But all in all, she and Leo had only known each other for less than two months, and most of that time she was either running for her life or making clothes.
It was just a mere two months. What kind of person would spend two full years looking for a short relationship of two months, and when he couldn't find it, he would spend a lot of money to set up a fund. This fund even survived to this day, two hundred years later.
He was determined to find Irene at all costs.
Leaving aside others, Irene asked herself, at least she couldn't do it - spending years of her time and accumulated money for Leo.
Kolio can.
Leo had put so much thought into this, so what exactly did he want from her?
Even if she could successfully return to the 19th century, what would Leo do to her?
Irene didn't want to think about it, nor did she dare to think about it.
The heavy emotional burden weighed heavily on her, and the original decadence and guilt were suppressed. At this moment, the only thing left in Irene's heart was the deep fear, even mixed with a little fear and terror.
——Fearful of Leo’s crazy obsession with her.
Irene closed the diary with a slight palpitation. The content in the diary was so shocking that she forgot to look at the back of the diary.
There was a sudden knock on the door. Irene put the diary next to her pillow and prepared to get up and open the door.
The movement of her turning over and getting out of bed caused the pillow on the bed to tilt to one side, just in time to push the diary off.
The not-too-thick diary flipped over in mid-air and fell to the ground, stirring up a layer of barely visible golden dust.
There is also a complete lion's head on the back cover of the diary exposed to sunlight.
It was exactly the same as what Irene saw from the front.
"Hey, when did it fall?" Irene, who had just received a message from Ian, picked up the diary on the ground with some surprise.
She was in a hurry to go out, so she didn't even flip through the diary. She just put it under her pillow and didn't notice that there were identical hand-drawn images on the front and back of the diary.
The handwriting on the diary exudes a faint fragrance, but if you smell it carefully, you can vaguely detect a strange sweet and fishy smell.
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