Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Sleepless Night — Friend’s Heartfelt Confession and High-Stakes Business Schemes…

When did she come back? Why didn’t she come to see me?

We agreed to keep each other informed, but there hasn’t even been a chance.

Jane felt a tightness in her chest, an indescribable wave of grievance washing over her. Taking a deep breath, she scanned the paper without blinking. It wasn’t long, briefly recounting Lin Zhao’s movements: she had located her uncle’s appearance and address, but due to an “unforeseen circumstance,” she was remaining undercover. She warned Jane to be wary of the Harrison father and son.

Then, mentioning Eleanor, she stated she was aware of the situation and was working to rectify it, telling Jane not to worry too much.

Finally, at the end of the log-like entries, there was a sentence with such clear emotion that it felt strikingly out of place:

“I broke my word by not coming to see you; I am sorry. I hope you have had a pleasant few days. See you at the ball; we will talk in detail then.”

The writer seemed to be in a rush, most of the handwriting was hurried, but this sentence alone was composed with care, every letter neatly aligned. The image of Lin Zhao bowing her head to write this flashed before Jane’s eyes, and her annoyance vanished instantly.

…After all, it was because of her that Lin Zhao was out there, likely in a far more dangerous position.

Jane read the note several more times before putting it away and writing in her own diary. The thoughts that had been circling in her mind for so long wouldn’t let her go even on paper. Even after closing the book, bathing, chatting with the others about the ball, and finally saying goodnight, Jane lay in bed, clutching the quilt, still dwelling on the day’s events, wide awake.

Outside, the moonlight flooded the room, then slowly receded like a tide. The night was thick; it was very late.

She stared blankly at the dark ceiling. Her mind jumped from the thrills in Lin Zhao’s letter to Miss Constance’s thought-provoking words, finally settling on Eleanor’s face, which had been wearing a forced smile all day.

Just then, she heard a rustle of covers and a turning body from the bed next to her, followed by a very faint sigh. It was Eleanor. She wasn’t asleep either.

Jane hesitated for a moment before whispering, “Lina, can’t you sleep?”

The movement stopped. After a moment, Eleanor replied in an equally low voice, “…No. You too, Jane?”

“Shall we talk?” Jane suggested.

Eleanor agreed. Jane took her pillow and quietly moved to Eleanor’s bed. Curled up under the same quilt, they could see each other’s silhouettes by the faint moonlight.

“You’re quite practiced at this,” Eleanor sniffed, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. “I didn’t know if you and Betty did this often.”

“No,” Jane shook her head, dismissing a flash of guilt, and looked at her seriously. “Lina, I know you said it’s fine. But I… I can’t stop worrying. You don’t look relaxed at all.”

Eleanor went silent. She looked at Jane, her brows curved sadly. Yes, this was the look Jane couldn’t forget. She lowered her voice further.

“Do you remember at Whalewood, when I didn’t know what to do, how you believed in me and were willing to listen? Now, I want to do the same for you. I’m willing to listen to whatever is on your heart.”

Silence filled the space under the quilt, broken only by Eleanor’s increasingly rapid breathing. Finally, she spoke, her voice raspy: “Then… I’ll tell you a story.”

A story. Jane remembered how her earlier conflict with Lin Zhao had also been framed within a story. This was their secret language. She nodded.

And so, in the quiet of the night, Eleanor told her experience in the form of a “story.” A girl taught from childhood to be obedient, kind, and to make her parents proud—how she struggled to play the role of the perfect daughter, hiding her true desires and fears deep inside, accepting that she would “eventually adapt” to her life.

“Marriage and school aren’t that different, really, are they?” Her voice was light, as if she were trying to convince herself. “Both involve going to a different place and adapting to a new life. Just like at Whalewood—I was scared at first, but then I had you and Betty, and I was happy…”

As she spoke, Eleanor’s voice began to tremble. “So, in a few years, even if… if it’s a different life, I’ll eventually get used to it.”

These words brought back that indescribable unease in Jane’s heart, but this time, she understood why. Eleanor had never truly resolved her troubles. Whether it was the silence during the competition or the current unexplained low spirits, she just kept smiling and telling herself “everything will be fine.”

What a deceptive disguise. Even now, Jane looked up and saw that Eleanor had put on her habitual smile.

“But it’s not the same!” Jane couldn’t help but get emotional, grabbing Eleanor’s wrist. “School ends, but marriage is for life! If the other person is like John Reed, there’s no turning back, Lina!”

The hands she held were ice-cold and trembling. Eleanor stopped talking. She lowered her eyes, but Jane could see the moonlight shimmering in the tears filling her lids. She clearly understood the concern.

“Should you… talk to Mrs. Harrison about how you feel?” Jane looked away, her tone softening. “She would consider your thoughts… wouldn’t she?”

“But what is there to say…” Eleanor’s smile almost broke, her voice gravelly as she turned her head away. “Like Betty said, marriage is normal. We have to face it sooner or later; there’s no difference between now and then.”

“Look at me, Lina,” Jane frowned, pulling her head back. “Are you truly content with this?”

“…”

Eleanor was forced to meet Jane’s gaze. Those eyes had broken through her mental defenses once before, half a year ago. Her lips trembled, unable to bear the pain in her heart any longer.

“No, I am not content.”

To study, to become a “good woman” worthy of marriage, to marry, to give birth, to become a “qualified wife and mother”—this was what society demanded, the future written into her growth. She was always the obedient child, never thinking of defying her parents. She thought her whole life would be like this. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but she could endure it.

Just like friends—if she hadn’t met Jane, she would have eventually met people of similar status, attended tea parties and balls with them. What she would have missed was just a bit of the chance to speak her mind. After all, she already had so much that others didn’t; it seemed petty not to accept a small loss.

It was supposed to be like that.

But then she met Jane, and new sprouts broke through her silent shell. Reunited with her aunt and hearing her stories, ideas she never dared to think before began to surface: What if I could be like that too?

But ideas were just ideas; she was afraid once she woke up. She didn’t have her aunt’s abilities; she was still in school. And the betrothal—her parents wouldn’t be cruel to her; they must have picked a good family. She just needed to endure a bit more, accept, adapt, grow numb, and enter a new phase of life.

It was supposed to be like that…

Eleanor could no longer suppress it. She threw herself into Jane’s arms, the tears she had held back for so long finally bursting forth in silent, violent sobs.

“I’m so afraid, Jane.”

“I’m afraid of conflict, afraid of change. I don’t dare refuse anyone because I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed… I don’t dare make Papa and Mama sad, so I do whatever they say… and I don’t dare… I don’t dare take Auntie’s path. I’m afraid I can’t do it, afraid everyone will mock me…”

“I’m so afraid. I don’t want to grow up; I don’t want to get married. If only we could stay eleven years old forever, stay at Whalewood forever, only worrying about exam results…” In her weeping, she poured out all the inner thoughts she hadn’t even dared to examine.

“I wish… I could be brave like you—”

Jane’s eyes stung. She leaned over and patted Eleanor’s back. Once the crying subsided slightly, she said softly but firmly, “You are brave, Lina. You were the one who said you wanted to be my friend in the first place.”

“That was… only because you said… to let me… follow my own… heart…” Eleanor looked up, still out of breath, her words halting.

“Yes, follow your heart. It’s the same this time. Just go and speak your mind. At least you will have fought for yourself,” Jane encouraged with absolute certainty.

Eleanor took a deep breath, holding back her tears, and nodded. “…Yes. Tomorrow… I’ll go talk to Mama…”

The two talked for a long time before Jane returned to her own bed. Having spoken openly, her mood was slightly better, but the unease in her heart was still stirring. She felt like she had forgotten something…

Until Eleanor’s breathing became steady and even, Jane remained awake. She tossed and turned, finally remembering that in the note Lin Zhao left, she mentioned she was doing something about Eleanor’s matter.

Connecting that to her initial schedule, Jane’s eyes widened.

What did she mean by “undercover due to an accident”? Could that “accident” refer to Eleanor’s betrothal?

“An accident! Sir, it really was an accident!”

A large crate of goods fell from the carriage, grazing past Lin Zhao’s face and hitting the ground with a massive thud. Before she could react, the coachman had jumped down, shouting.

The information broker, face covered in gauze and wrapped tightly in a cloak, stepped back without a word. She had just left the villa and was on her way to John Eyre’s location. This sudden accident made her think of the conversation between the Harrison father and son.

Did they move against her this quickly?

Seeing no reaction, the coachman didn’t bother continuing the conversation. He frantically checked the goods, muttering to himself: “God help me, this is wine. Please let it not be broken!”

Wine. Lin Zhao silently noted the direction of the carriage—it coincided with her destination. Recalling the shipping times for various goods she had gathered, she concluded: this was a shipment for John Eyre.

If the other person could hear her, Lin Zhao would have loved to hitch a ride or just ditch the cloak and blend in. Unfortunately, the commotion was quite large, drawing the eyes of many pedestrians. It was inconvenient to do the latter, so she stepped forward and helped the coachman lift the crate.

“God bless you, sir. You are truly a kind man.” The coachman gave her a grateful smile and prepared to climb back onto the seat. Lin Zhao was quick to grab him.

The coachman was startled by the abrupt movement. Turning to face the bottomless shadow of the hood, he felt a bit of a chill. Lin Zhao didn’t speak; she simply pulled a pre-prepared, wax-sealed letter from the inside of her cloak and handed it over.

He saw the name of his employer, Mr. Eyre, written on it.

“This… what is this?” The coachman hesitated, not daring to reach for it. Delivering a letter for an unknown, mysterious person to one of the richest merchants in Madeira was a risk a lowly coachman couldn’t afford.

Lin Zhao saw his hesitation. She let go and pulled a heavy silver coin from her pocket, pressing it into the coachman’s hand. Then, she pointed to the crate of wine that almost hit her, then at herself, and finally shook her head slightly, making a “don’t worry about it” gesture.

Bribe and forgiveness—the double-barreled approach.

The coachman weighed the silver coin, remembered her lack of grievance, and his internal scales tipped instantly. He gritted his teeth and took the letter. “Alright… don’t you worry, sir! I promise to hand it directly to the butler!”

Lin Zhao nodded silently and receded into the shadows. Watching the carriage rattle away, she couldn’t help but sigh: Money really does make things easier.

Indeed, from her recent information business, besides the wide-reaching mystery of “Mr. Giannette” and “Mr. Lint,” she had gained actual material rewards. That first merchant, William, came back the next day as promised. To show his gratitude and intent for cooperation, he gave her a payment. With that initial capital, Lin Zhao used info to get money and vice versa, earning a considerable sum.

She used the money to order several sets of clothes—cloaks, masks, hats—upgrading to high-quality fabrics, and moved her business from the corners of the trading firm into the homes of various merchants.

Lin Zhao tucked her wallet back into her clothes, muttering to herself. You don’t know until you try it; she had no actual capital, but she could still make a profit through information. Information gaps were truly valuable, and being a middleman was lucrative.

But the greatest gain was that she now had a sizable fund that could cover Jane’s expenses for the next year. Even if something went wrong with the reunion and her uncle didn’t recognize her, Jane wouldn’t have to rely on sponsors and could continue her studies in peace.

An opportunity to earn a “future security fund” was not to be missed. These past few days, Lin Zhao had spent her time not just spreading rumors, but focusing entirely on making money. Once the money reached a certain amount, it became difficult to carry, so she did as other merchants did and opened an account with the trading firm.

Now, having sent the letter, she turned back toward the firm.

“Yo, Mr. Lint! Good day!”

“Sir, we’ve been waiting for you!”

“Mr. Lint, you’re looking energetic!”

As she entered the firm, people greeted her one after another. Lin Zhao gave a symbolic wave, heading straight for the counter without stopping, pushing over a deposit slip and a bag of coins.

The head of the counter, a young man in his twenties named Terry Mason, was an adopted son of the Mason family. He had been assigned to the Madeira Islands to manage the firm’s business. Over these few days, Terry had become familiar with Lin Zhao. Seeing what she pushed over, he understood the intent and quickly added another entry to her slip.

“Mr. Lint, if you wish to change the withdrawal location to somewhere else, it can be arranged.” He pushed the slip back, introducing the service with a smile. “The Mason Firm is gaining a foothold in more and more places. For a distinguished client like yourself, setting the primary address closer to your ‘estate’ would be much more convenient.”

Lin Zhao had heard all sorts of talk lately; she knew he was probing for the specific location of the person behind her. Edward Harrison was afraid she was in league with the Masons to cut off his profit lines—ironically, his news was lagging. He didn’t know the Masons were also trying to check her background to see how much they should tolerate her information-brokering.

But none of them would get their way. She waved him off, took the slip, and sat in her usual spot. As soon as she sat down, several people crowded around for trades.

Lin Zhao worked until late at night before finally ending the day’s business. Usually, she would pretend to rest at the firm, taking a short nap before leaving. But today, after most people had dispersed, she quickly noticed something off. Not far from her, a person had been sitting for hours, neither approaching her nor leaving.

Likely another spy sent by Harrison to watch her.

She stood up, preparing to lose the person like last time, but before she could leave her seat, Terry called out to her first. “Mr. Lint, it’s late. Why not rest in one of the firm’s rooms? Our Master has heard much of your name and wishes to have morning tea with you tomorrow.”

The Master of the Mason family?

In the original book, the Masons weren’t given much detail, with only a few people mentioned. But Lin Zhao couldn’t assume this Master was one of them. She suppressed the instinctive refusal and glanced at the spy. She couldn’t stay at the firm under Harrison’s watchful eyes; that would undoubtedly add fuel to his suspicions. She couldn’t break ties with Harrison until the “marriage” between Giannette and Eleanor was settled.

Lin Zhao quickly wrote a note, handed it to Terry, and left without looking back. Behind her, a set of footsteps followed naturally. She turned left and right, entering an alley. But this time, she didn’t just vanish like a cicada shedding its skin.

The person behind, perhaps warned by his predecessor, stepped into the alley with rapid steps, afraid of losing her. As the footsteps drew near, Lin Zhao spun around suddenly, catching the person off guard and bringing them face-to-face.

“…Sir.” The man seemed to want to make an excuse, pretending he wasn’t doing anything shady.

Lin Zhao didn’t bother listening. She briskly pulled back her hood—don’t you want to see what I look like? Look.

“AAAAHHHHH—”

A very loud scream.

At the trading firm, Terry looked up from his ledger, frowning as he listened for a moment. Hearing nothing more, he muttered, “Those drunks, probably tripped by the cargo on that road again.” He flattened the note he had just received, which bore a line of text he couldn’t understand.

“?” His frown deepened, wondering if he was hallucinating from being overworked. “This doesn’t look like French.”

As he prepared to look closer, a night-shift worker pushed open the door, shouting: “Terry, help me with my account.”

He had to put the note away and attend to the man. “Did you hear that scream just now?” the worker asked, peeking around as Terry made the entry. “Wonder which drunk fell into the alley again.”

“Who can blame them? The wine business here is thriving,” Terry joked, his eyes shifting as he fished for info. “Tom, why are you so late tonight?”

“Me? You wouldn’t believe it. That horse went crazy today, walking like I don’t know what on the road, and dropped the cargo! Almost hit someone!”

The question gave Tom exactly the opening he needed. He had quite a day and immediately began talking non-stop. “You know how protective Mr. Eyre is of his goods; thank God nothing happened! Or I’d have worked a month for nothing—but, this bad luck brought a bit of bread. That passerby didn’t hold it against me and gave me a silver coin to deliver a letter!”

Terry finished the entry, handed back the ledger, and was still thinking about the note, replying with little interest: “Is that so? There are still such generous people.”

Tom checked the ledger, put it away, and leaned in cautiously, lowering his voice. “You bet. That letter was for Mr. Eyre! I don’t know what was in it, but I saw with my own eyes—after Mr. Eyre read it, his face went white. He didn’t even care about the goods and locked himself in the study for hours! He only just remembered me and settled the bill. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be this late!”

This piqued Terry’s interest. His eyes lit up, and he whispered back: “That passerby—do you remember what they looked like?”

“Unforgettable! I didn’t see a bit of skin; that gentleman was wrapped so tightly—you’d think it was winter!”

Terry’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

The moon had reached its peak and was slowly sliding westward. The night was vast; even the busiest docks and streets were completely asleep by this time. However, this night was destined to be sleepless for many, due to unfinished business, unresolved mysteries, or unpaid accounts.

Lin Zhao, having scared off the uninvited follower, dusted off her clothes and walked toward the firm. Before she reached it, she saw the coachman from the afternoon coming out.

A second later, Terry followed right behind, appearing at the door and looking left and right. Seeing her, he ran over without a word.

“Sir, I suspect you took the wrong note,” Terry said with extreme enthusiasm, even assuming she had already accepted the invitation. “See, a room has long been prepared. I was worried you didn’t see my hint and had left!”

Lin Zhao didn’t need to guess; he had already learned about her letter to John Eyre, and the need to dig into her identity had become increasingly urgent. She hadn’t expected such a casual delivery method to remain a secret; in fact, this was exactly what she wanted.

Lin Zhao nodded to him and followed him in. In that moment, she already had a response ready for the Mason family’s unexpected invitation.

After all, she was someone who had read the original book inside out. A semi-functional “cheat” was still a cheat.