Fantasy Novel: Paradise Hotel    2

1. First Arrival at Lake Lucerne

A dark blue SUV slowly came to a stop beside Lake Lucerne, sunlight casting fragmented patterns of light and shadow across the windows. Lin Hsiao-yang pushed open the door and stepped onto the ground covered with fallen leaves. The soles of his shoes gently crushed several withered yellow leaves, producing a faint rustling sound.

He looked around. The lake shimmered beneath the sunlight, reflecting the distant snow-capped mountains and the colorful wooden houses scattered along the lakeshore. Several swans glided leisurely across the water, their white feathers gleaming in the sunlight. On the benches along the lakeshore, some people sat reading thick books, while other visitors leaned against one another as they admired the scenery of the lake and mountains.

Lin Hsiao-yang walked over to a bulletin board and scanned the assortment of advertisements posted across it. Then a pale yellow slip of paper caught his attention:

“Paradise Hotel, a self-service hotel for artists, peaceful surroundings, reasonable rates, twenty Swiss francs per week…”

He read it aloud in a low voice, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Only twenty francs a week? That’s a much better deal than staying at a motel…”

He reached out and tore off a small strip containing the telephone number. His fingertips accidentally touched the edge of another advertisement beside it, causing the paper to sway gently. He stared at the slip for several seconds, confirmed the address, and then turned back toward his car.

The SUV traveled along the road circling the lake. The maple trees on both sides looked like blazing flames, swaying gently in the breeze. Between the shadows of the trees, rectangular flower beds bloomed with flowers of various colors—red, yellow, and purple—interwoven like a painting.

Pedestrians strolled leisurely along the roadside. Some walked side by side, speaking quietly; others walked their dogs along the lakeside path. Young men and women on bicycles weaved among them, the ringing of silver bicycle bells rising and falling one after another.

Beneath a patch of green shade, a family sat together on a picnic blanket. The parents were cutting cheese and French bread while their children chased a fluffy golden puppy nearby, their laughter ringing out like silver bells. On a hammock nearby, a silver-haired elderly man rested with his eyes half closed, gently rocking in the woven hammock as he enjoyed the lakeside breeze and the tranquility of the afternoon.

2

Lin Hsiao-yang drove slowly along the road circling the lake. In the distance, Lake Lucerne shimmered beneath the sunlight, the dancing reflections resembling silk sprinkled with gold dust. Tall mahogany trees stood along the lakeshore, their interwoven branches casting mottled shadows. Following a sign, he turned onto an inconspicuous side road that descended toward the lake.

Rows of old trees stood on both sides of the road, their massive trunks resembling witnesses to history. They must have been more than two hundred years old. As the breeze passed through them, the leaves rustled softly. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the branches and fell across the body of the car, creating patches of alternating light and shadow.

“Here…” He slowed down and murmured to himself, “This must have been an aristocrat’s estate back then, right?”

As the car approached the lakeshore, a small wooden pier appeared on the left. Three or four small yachts were quietly moored there, their white sails swaying gently in the breeze. On the right, a castle-like hotel was hidden deep among the trees. Green vines covered its red brick walls, while several Gothic pointed-arch windows reflected the scenery of the lake and mountains, giving the building a classical yet mysterious appearance.

Lin Hsiao-yang parked the car in the small parking lot in front of the hotel. After turning off the engine, he pushed open the door and stepped onto the gravel path, the stones making a faint crunch beneath his feet. He walked around to the passenger side, took out his suitcase, and slowly made his way toward the hotel entrance.

An elaborately carved wrought-iron archway welcomed visitors. Beyond the gate was a colorful garden where violets, roses, and lavender bloomed together, filling the air with a faint floral fragrance. More than a dozen marble statues were scattered throughout the garden. Each one was carved with lifelike detail, as though works of art had been frozen in time.

He quickened his pace, followed the garden path, pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, and stepped into the hotel’s high-ceilinged lobby.

The front desk stood on the right side of the lobby, while an open café occupied the left. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows lay the lake, offering a panoramic view over much of Lake Lucerne. At that moment, only two or three white travelers were sitting in the café, chatting. Their low voices mingled with the gentle hum of the coffee machine as it slowly brewed coffee.

The front desk was made of heavy mahogany, its warm color softened by the marks left by years of use. Behind it stood an elderly man with a head of silver hair and gold-rimmed glasses. He was leafing through a book with a yellowed cover.

Lin Hsiao-yang approached, set down his luggage, and cleared his throat.

“Ich möchte ein Zimmer mieten.”
“I’d like to rent a room.”

The old man looked up and smiled faintly. He closed the book, took out a registration form, and slid it toward Lin Hsiao-yang.

“Bitte füllen Sie das Formular aus.”
“Please fill out this form.”

Lin Hsiao-yang took a fountain pen from his jacket pocket, leaned over the counter, and quickly filled in his name, passport number, length of stay, and other information. When he finished, he handed the form back to the old man.

The old man accepted the form, glanced over it, and nodded. He then took an antique bronze-colored key from a drawer and handed it to Lin Hsiao-yang.

“Das ist Ihr Zimmerschlüssel, Zimmer 504.”
“This is your room key, Room 504.”

“Danke.”
“Thank you.”

Lin Hsiao-yang smiled faintly, took the key, picked up his luggage, and headed toward the staircase.

The hotel’s spiral staircase featured an exquisite European design. The carved handrail gleamed with the warm luster of polished wood, while the red carpet beneath his feet gave a faint, soft rebound with every step.

By the time he reached the fifth floor and found Room 504, the sky had already taken on a faint golden hue. He inserted the key and gently turned it. The lock clicked open. The moment he pushed open the door, the motion-sensor lights inside automatically came on, bathing the entire room in a soft, warm yellow glow.

Then the graceful sound of a violin slowly flowed through the room. The melody was lyrical, and the familiar notes gently tugged at his heartstrings—it was a Mozart violin concerto. At that moment, he felt as though he had stepped into an eighteenth-century Viennese musical salon.

He let out a soft breath and walked into the room. It was spacious and elegant, with a large oil painting hanging on the wall. The painting depicted an outdoor concert. Three or four elegantly dressed aristocratic ladies sat on wooden chairs, surrounded by several gentlemen in impeccably tailored suits. The orchestra consisted of six or seven musicians dressed in tailcoats, with a fountain and an outdoor bandstand in the square behind them.

Lin Hsiao-yang walked closer, his eyes settling on the signature in the lower-right corner of the painting. His gaze suddenly froze.

“Huang Lihua.”

He frowned and murmured, “That name… Chinese?”

He raised his head and looked outside the window. Through the pale coffee-colored floor-to-ceiling windows, he could overlook the hotel courtyard. The entire building was arranged in a square shape around a central courtyard. The courtyard was paved with red tiles, and an outdoor bandstand stood in the center, with a fountain beside it. Clear jets of water shimmered with a faint golden glow beneath the setting sun.

The first floor consisted of a long arcade. Flower beds surrounded the courtyard, while lush green vines climbed upward along the corridors, blending perfectly with the scenery outside the windows.

Lin Hsiao-yang leaned against the window, his gaze resting on the lake. In the distance, Lake Lucerne was gently veiled in mist, resembling a dream.

He said softly, “This really is the perfect place to write.”

With that, he slowly sat down in a high-backed wooden chair beside the window. Leaning against the backrest, he gradually let his mind drift away as his eyes followed the rippling surface of the lake.

A faint fragrance of lilies lingered in the air.

In the corner of the study stood a black grand piano. In the vase on top of the piano, freshly replaced lilies were blooming vividly. The hotel music continued to flow softly through the room.

Lin Hsiao-yang closed his eyes and briefly sank into his memories…

In the backyard of Lin Hsiao-yang’s home, he and his girlfriend, Hsieh Hui-chun, had gotten into an argument.

Hsieh Hui-chun said angrily, “Heaven knows I’m telling the truth. My parents have never looked down on you because of your family background. They only want you to take over my father’s business. They never asked you to marry into my family. Why do you always assume the worst?”

Lin Hsiao-yang said unhappily, “I don’t like anyone making decisions about my life. If I had known from the beginning that you were a rich heiress, I would have had the good sense to walk away.”

Hsieh Hui-chun became angry.

“You’re really impossible to reason with! Do you honestly think I would hurt you? There are only my younger sister and me in my family. My father hopes that his future son-in-law can take over his business. That’s only natural!”

Lin Hsiao-yang stubbornly replied, “Anyway, I don’t like a marriage that comes with conditions attached.”

Hsieh Hui-chun said, “Why have you become so stubborn and so impossible to communicate with? Fine! I’ll go to Europe to clear my head. When you’ve thought things through, send me an email.”

Hsieh Hui-chun grabbed her purse and turned away without looking back…

Lin Hsiao-yang pulled his gaze back to the present. He took out his laptop, opened the screen, and stared at it as he murmured to himself,

“Hui-chun, where are you?”

3

Lin Hsiao-yang rode a bicycle slowly along the bike path beside the road circling the lake. His waist bag contained his cell phone and digital camera. Under the afternoon sunlight, the surface of the lake shimmered brilliantly. Occasionally, a swan glided leisurely across the water, leaving ripples in its wake. The plane trees on both sides of the road cast mottled shadows, while the air was filled with the fresh scent of the lake.

He stopped beside a pier where several elegant white yachts were moored, small Swiss and French flags fluttering from their masts. Behind them stood a row of magnificent hotel buildings. Their classical European façades were decorated with carved balconies and bronze wall lamps, radiating the quiet dignity of passing time.

In the middle of the pier, a blond young man stood beside a black violin case, playing a graceful violin melody. The music was as light as the breeze over the lake and attracted more than a dozen tourists, who stopped to listen. The young man played smoothly, with a faint melancholy in his music that drew people unconsciously into the melody.

When the piece ended, the spectators began dropping small-denomination bills into the hat at his feet. Lin Hsiao-yang also took out a one-euro bill and placed it in the hat.

Just as he turned to leave, the young man suddenly called out to him in French with a noticeable French accent.

“Monsieur, attendez-moi un instant.”
“Sir, please wait a moment.”

Lin Hsiao-yang froze for a moment and instinctively turned around, pointing to himself.

“Vous me parlez ? Puis-je vous aider ?”
“Are you talking to me? Can I help you?”

The young man put away his violin. A mysterious smile curled at the corners of his mouth, and there was a deliberate hint of probing in his eyes.

“Oui. Quelqu'un m'a demandé de vous attendre ici.”
“Yes. Someone asked me to wait for you here.”

Lin Hsiao-yang frowned, immediately becoming alert.

“Qui vous a demandé de m'attendre ?”
“Who asked you to wait for me?”

The young man shrugged and gave him a deliberately mysterious smile.

“Je ne le connais pas, mais il a dit : ‘Cet homme sera votre patron à l'avenir.’”
“I don’t know him, but he said, ‘This man will be your boss in the future.’”

Lin Hsiao-yang was slightly startled, and an alarm immediately went off in his mind.

“Puis-je savoir votre nom ?”
“May I ask your name?”

The blond young man extended his hand, a playful glimmer passing through his eyes.

“Je m'appelle Wilson, monsieur. Je viens du sud de la France, de la Côte d'Azur. Y êtes-vous déjà allé ?”
“My name is Wilson, sir. I’m from the south of France, the French Riviera. Have you ever been there?”

Lin Hsiao-yang shook his hand and gave him a polite smile.

“Oui, j'y suis allé. C'est un bel endroit.”
“Yes, I’ve been there. It’s a beautiful place.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

“Vous logez à l’Hôtel du Paradis, n'est-ce pas ?”
“You’re staying at Paradise Hotel, aren’t you?”

Lin Hsiao-yang was slightly startled, a trace of surprise passing across his face.

“Oui, mais comment le savez-vous ?”
“Yes, but how do you know?”

Wilson chuckled softly and lowered his head to straighten his bow, as though he had already anticipated Hsiao-yang’s reaction.

“Huang Lihua me l'a dit.”
“Huang Lihua told me.”

“Huang Lihua ? L’artiste ? Vous êtes sûr ?”
“Huang Lihua? The artist? Are you sure?”

At the mention of the name, Lin Hsiao-yang’s brow furrowed even more deeply. He immediately remembered the painting in his room. Its artist was Huang Lihua.

Wilson nodded firmly.

“Oui, il m'a dit que vous seriez ici ce week-end.”
“Yes. He told me that you would be here this weekend.”

Lin Hsiao-yang’s confusion deepened, and the question escaped his lips almost instinctively.

“Mais je ne l'ai jamais vu.”
“But I’ve never seen him.”

Wilson looked at him meaningfully, a subtle, intriguing smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.

“Vous le verrez très bientôt.”
“You’ll see him very soon.”

Lin Hsiao-yang stared at him with mixed disbelief and suspicion. A strange sense of unease began to rise within him.

“C'est vraiment une chose étrange.”
“That’s really strange.”

Wilson patted the violin case and smiled casually.

“En tout cas, ravi de vous rencontrer. Je vous retrouverai plus tard. Prenez soin de vous.”
“Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll see you again later. Take care.”

With that, he lowered his head and began packing up his instrument and music stand, seemingly no longer intending to say anything more. Lin Hsiao-yang stood where he was, watching Wilson’s departing figure, his mind filled with doubts.

Hsiao-yang lowered his head and looked at the lake. The afterglow of the setting sun dyed the rippling water red and was reflected on his face. Deep down, he had a vague feeling that someone seemed to have already set their sights on him.

But who were they?

And why were they doing this?