Chapter 47

"Xiao Ming, I think you should know, I am a French woman."

Sitting at the head of the bed, Miss Philippe gently stroked her daughter's dry hair and spoke in a very peculiar tone: "My father was an upright but conservative officer, and my mother was the daughter of a merchant. They both doted on me, so my days in Paris were probably the happiest of my life..."

Speaking softly about the distant past, Miss Philippe's eyes were lost in the sunny world outside the window, as if she had returned to that carefree era.

Sitting in the only chair, John listened attentively and shifted to a more comfortable position, for it seemed this would be a long story...

Today, Miss Philippe was indeed a bit strange, sometimes speaking loudly, sometimes softly, as if she had finally let go of her heart's burdens and laid out her entire life before John.

In essence, it was an old-fashioned love story.

Anna Philippe, born into Parisian high society, was not particularly beautiful but was intelligent, wise, and strong-willed. From a young age, she showed exceptional talent in music and art, becoming the most outstanding of her parents' three children. Her father often lamented that Anna was not a boy, for then she could have inherited his career and become an elite member of the French Army.

But like all old-fashioned love stories, after growing up, Anna met someone, a man who changed her life.

When Anna met the wandering painter André on the streets of Paris, she soon fell in love. Anna supported André's painting career without expecting anything in return and worked hard to promote his work to her friends. However, everything was discovered by her parents. After a fierce family argument, the freedom-loving and love-struck Anna eloped with André. They sailed to the New World and settled in New York City.

"Then, there was Céline."

Staring blankly at her expressionless daughter, Miss Philippe's eyes dimmed, and her voice grew low.

"Phew..."

Hearing this, John couldn't help but exhale softly, his expression slightly awkward. If in the future, people would praise such a couple, in the 19th century, even the most tolerant Westerners would find it hard to accept. Thus, after hearing these words, John suddenly felt as if he were prying into someone's secrets.

"Her birth was like the arrival of an angel."

Gently caressing her daughter's face, Miss Philippe murmured, "I always thought so, even when we had already spent all the savings I brought and were forced to move out of our rented apartment. But André's paintings were beginning to be appreciated, and I found a job as a governess. The future looked bright, didn't it?"

John nodded silently.

Different people have different definitions of happiness, but at least he admired Miss Philippe's view: having hope is happiness.

"When she was still an infant, everything seemed fine."

Miss Philippe's expression was somewhat dull as she said, "I might have been a bit excited, but I swear to God, everything was normal! She could eat, laugh, and cry like any other child, and I always kept her in bed with me, never imagining that there was a demon in her tiny body!"

"Swallow!"

Hearing this, John couldn't help but swallow hard. Although he knew Miss Philippe likely meant the child was sick, the way of expressing it in this era still made him shiver.

"But... I never forgot the moment I realized something might be wrong!"

As if seeing the most tragic scene in the world, Miss Philippe closed her eyes, her facial muscles twitching as she said, "Because after that day, everything changed..."

Miss Philippe's voice no longer held the longing and reminiscence; it became indifferent and filled with an indescribable weariness.

"That day, I was doing laundry in the house, and she was sitting on the bed playing. I could hear her laughter and her babbling. I was in a good mood, washing clothes diligently, planning to play with Céline for an hour after finishing and then cook. So, after ten minutes, I finished the laundry, stood up, and walked towards her with a smile. Then I saw her sitting at the head of the bed, drawing red lines on the white sheet with her fingers. At first, I didn't pay much attention, but when I reached her and reached out to pick her up..."

"I screamed."

As if reliving that moment, Miss Philippe suddenly raised her voice, making John's heart race and his scalp tingle!

"It was terrifying!"

Without a pause, Miss Philippe shivered and said, "Céline's right index finger was torn and bloody—she was drawing those red lines on the sheet with her own blood, bright red lines!"

"Clang!"

Hearing this shocking fact, John jumped up, the chair crashing into the table behind him, and he exclaimed, "What did you say?!"

"Mr. Hunter, is everything alright?"

As John was stunned, the coachman, Fett, immediately called out from outside the door.

"No, no, everything's fine!"

John quickly regained his composure, responded to the coachman, and then looked at the little girl playing on the bed with a stunned expression. Perhaps because infants' nervous systems are not fully developed, some children have slightly less sensitive pain perception than adults, but drawing lines with her own blood?

This was beyond the norm!

As John's mind raced, Miss Philippe, who seemed to have calmed down after the coachman's interruption, continued her story: "I was in a panic, but Céline just smiled at me. That's when I noticed her teeth were also red, meaning she had bitten her own finger and was drawing with her blood..."

"What, what's going on?"

Listening to Miss Philippe's voice, John's face became extremely serious.

"I don't know."

Subconsciously, Miss Philippe answered John's question, which seemed more like a rhetorical one.

Looking at the innocent smile on Céline's face, John sighed. Although he knew that doctors of this era could do little, after some thought, he still asked, "Miss Philippe, have you taken Céline to see a doctor?"

"I did, but they could do nothing."

Miss Philippe said expressionlessly, "So, in the end, we had to rely on ourselves. André and I tried every method to tell her not to bite her fingers, but it was all in vain. Even when we beat her bottom, pinched her arms, and slapped her face, it made no difference. Worse, Céline learned to use this to threaten us. Whenever things didn't go her way, she would put her fingers in her mouth and bite them... John, do you know?"

With a bitter laugh, Miss Philippe looked at John and said, "When the wounds on her fingers appeared one after another, and when she learned to walk and started bleeding from her feet day after day, I no longer feared her self-harm!"

Miss Philippe's expression was so bizarre that John felt a chill run down his spine.

He instantly understood Miss Philippe's expression, for in his past life, he had seen it on many patients with chronic terminal illnesses. It was the final calm after shock, panic, fear, and helplessness.

Gently holding her daughter in her arms, Miss Philippe's eyes were vacant as she whispered, "André couldn't bear the torment and left. He even called our daughter a monster. And we... John, do we have a future?"

"Future?"

Hearing this word again from Miss Philippe, John only heard a bitter taste and the deepest despair. In her dark eyes, he saw the nightmare that had befallen a once hopeful family!

"What can I do?"

Almost instinctively, John's mind raced, searching through his seemingly distant memories.

Painless!

This child feels no pain!

This was the first possibility John considered. Regardless of the girl's condition, the human aversion to pain is innate, a reflex. So if she enjoyed self-harm and never felt pain, this was the most likely explanation.

Diabetes, alcoholism, multiple sclerosis, nerve disorders, spinal injuries...

One by one, the possible causes of painlessness flashed through John's mind, only to be quickly dismissed. For such a young child, these possibilities were almost zero!

But soon, he thought of another, and the most likely, possibility.

Just as John's eyes lit up and he was about to explain to Miss Philippe, his body suddenly froze, as if struck by lightning. His expression and body stiffened!

A moment later, like a rusty machine, John slowly turned his head to look at Céline in Miss Philippe's arms.

The girl seemed to sense his gaze, tilted her head, licked her lips, and suddenly smiled.

This innocent smile was so piercing to John that he dared not meet the girl's eyes, quickly turning away and bowing his head deeply...