Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: The Tide Turns — Another Episode of “Ghosts are Very Useful”

“The market is a battlefield; defending your business is like defending your life.”

This was a phrase the adoptive father often repeated when explaining trade cases to Jane.

As a party that had enjoyed cooperation with the EIC for many years and filled its coffers to the brim, how could Goldstone Winery not have a few tricks up its sleeve to handle “accidents”?

In this instant, Jane understood everything.

For years, the orders they exchanged with the Company used coded language to label the wines. They deliberately named the order after one of the raw ingredients, concealing the fact that the wine was actually a complex blend.

Whether it was a natural disaster or a human interference, anyone trying to hijack the order would discover, after months of hard work, that they had only fought for half a key. Much like Jane’s own plan to checkmate Julian, as long as this secret remained hidden, Goldstone Winery would always hold the other half of the door leading to the East India Company’s world.

No wonder they hadn’t reacted to the commotion caused by her or Julian.

“Sercial production decreased; that is a fact. But he used that fact. He stayed calm and relaxed specifically to let speculators like Julian hunt down enough raw materials for him. When the final negotiations arrive, he only needs to reveal his unique recipe and the key second wine. Julian will be forced to submit to him, or the massive amount of wine he hoarded will become worthless.”

“Since it’s a blended wine, the EIC ultimately values the ‘quantity’ that meets the standard. Julian has enough wine to meet that quantity, even if the quality is average. Plus, there’s the hidden second player, Mr. Ferreira, pulling the strings. Phillips might not necessarily choose us.”

“Perhaps Ferreira’s silence was intended to stir the market from the start. At least locally, no one but us is reaching for his order. And Julian—the foothold he seeks will be impossible to achieve under the threat of Goldstone Winery.”

Jane listed the conclusions of her thoughts one by one, her expression a mix of joy and concern. The massive expenditure, the wine that might rot in their hands, the vulnerability exposed during the deal with Barros… admittedly, at first glance, their situation looked quite dire.

If Lin Zhao weren’t here, Jane would probably have to pay a very expensive “tuition fee” for these intrigues.

Jane’s face remained stoic, but her eyes shone with startling intensity: “None of them take me seriously—but if they think they can kick me off the table like this, they are dead wrong.”

“There are still a few days before the official negotiations. Based on my surveillance of Julian, the probability that he knows Ferreira’s plan is low,” Lin Zhao added, filling in the gaps of the current situation. “And as long as Ferreira maintains his indifferent attitude, we have a great opportunity.”

Indeed, the secret they glimpsed was terrifying, but the beauty was that there was still time. Instead of agonizing over unchangeable choices, it was better to think about how to reverse everything. Jane quickly came up with a countermeasure.

“Lin, business is truly interesting. It’s far more than just the joy of buying and selling things.” Jane curled her lips slightly and beckoned Lin Zhao closer. She then leaned against Lin’s shoulder and whispered her plan into her ear.

“Understood. Leave it to me.” A flash of surprise crossed Lin Zhao’s eyes, quickly turning into a faint smile. Supporting the physically exhausted Jane, she spoke with certainty, “Now, you must go back. You need a clear head to deal with all this. Get a good night’s sleep and wait for my good news, alright?”

“Mhm…”

Jane allowed Lin to lead her out. The docks at night were quieter than during the day; the sound of the waves felt turbulent, like someone’s murmurs in the wind. She couldn’t help but murmur back: “Lin, when you leave, I…” What will I do?

Her voice was too light, like another strand of night breeze brushing past Lin Zhao’s ear, leaving only a trace of nearly imperceptible itching.

The head beside her moved slightly but gave no answer.

This was the disadvantage of night over day. Even if people walked side-by-side, if the person intending to avoid a subject tilted their head slightly, their expression would vanish into the darkness, and the hearts of two people would easily drift far apart.

The day had been truly exhausting. Jane didn’t notice Lin Zhao’s evasive movement, and naturally missed the sadness flowing across her face.

The next day, when she saw her again, Lin Zhao’s face had returned to its usual indifference, though the corners of her mouth turned up when she looked at Jane.

“Did you sleep well, Jane?” Lin Zhao stood by the window, clutching a stack of papers. She turned around upon hearing the movement on the bed.

Jane stretched, her eyes still half-closed. She walked to Lin’s side and tugged at her sleeve: “Did you find what we need?”

Lin Zhao helped her straighten her loose clothes before handing over the papers.

“Of course. Mr. Ferreira is quite confident in his security, so he didn’t hide the recipe at all.” She pointed to the contents on the paper, explaining carefully, “This is the blending ratio, and here is the other wine that needs to be used. The operating steps are on this page…”

The ghost lady’s detective work was as reliable as ever.

Jane finished reading the pages, feeling even more satisfied with her sudden new plan.

“Then, let’s start by making sure Mr. Ferreira can no longer watch the show as an outsider.”

Lin Zhao nodded and added, “I’ve already made arrangements. This afternoon, a letter from ‘London’ will arrive at the villa where Mr. Phillips is staying.”

Admiration shone in Jane’s eyes. “Will he read a letter that arrives so suddenly?”

“He will,” Lin Zhao said with total conviction. “Due to recent internal personnel changes at the EIC, Phillips is actually a newly appointed supervisor. The Madeira trade is a project he just took over; he isn’t familiar with it. Otherwise, Ferreira wouldn’t have dared to act as a puppeteer so openly.”

“Naturally, he won’t allow a supplier to play him for a fool based on that. An ‘internal memo’ reminding him that the procurement codes have special meanings will be enough to make him restless.”

“And once he goes to Goldstone Winery to verify this with Ferreira, it will no longer be a secret,” Jane took over, her thoughts extending clearly. “You can spread the intelligence, and Julian will immediately know he’s been played. With his personality, he will definitely take action.”

“And we will beat him to it,” Lin Zhao finished the rest of the plan in one breath. “Before he finds Ferreira, we will ‘do’ things for him.”

Jane’s heartbeat quickened slightly—not from nerves, but from the excitement of the plan unfolding. She knew that from this moment on, she would truly dictate the direction of the chessboard.

That afternoon, the weather in Funchal was somewhat gloomy.

An inconspicuous carriage stopped before the grand gates of Goldstone Winery. Mr. Phillips got out alone, his face as arrogant as ever, but with a hint of urgency hidden in his disdainful eyes. He made no fuss, merely claiming he was visiting an old friend, and was respectfully invited into Mr. Ferreira’s study.

No one knew what they discussed, but in less than half an hour, Phillips departed with a grim expression.

Under the operation of Lin Zhao’s intelligence network, this brief “secret visit” spread through Funchal’s winemaking circles in less than an hour. Rumors seemed to grow wings, flying into the ears of everyone concerned with the EIC order.

“Did you hear? Mr. Phillips of the EIC went to Goldstone today!” “Looks like the order stays with Ferreira this year. Those speculators worked for nothing.” “Exactly. Goldstone has been in this business forever; how could they be unseated by some green boys from England?” “Good thing I never planned to wade into those muddy waters.”

When these words reached Julian Harrison, he was in his study, writing a report to Ashford. Upon hearing the report from his deputy’s deeper intelligence network that “the order is for blended wine,” the composure on his face vanished instantly.

His knuckles turned white from the force of gripping his fountain pen. A drop of ink fell from the nib, blooming into a dark stain on his nearly finished letter—much like his current mood.

He immediately realized how ridiculous his massive, high-priced acquisitions looked in the eyes of his opponent. He was like a hardworking clown performing for the real theater owner on stage without knowing it.

“Sir, what do we do now?” the deputy asked cautiously, not daring to look at his master’s face.

Julian didn’t answer immediately. He slowly put down the pen and pulled out a handkerchief, trying to blot the excess ink. But the thick ink only smeared further; after a moment, he had to give up. When he looked up again, the last shred of gentleness in his eyes was gone, replaced by icy rage.

“Prepare my horse,” he said through gritted teeth. He paused, then corrected himself: “…No, wait.”

He stopped the deputy. Acting on impulse was not his style. Before confirming all the facts, he couldn’t show his hand personally.

“Send our best men to watch Goldstone Winery,” Julian’s voice was low. “I want to know Ferreira’s every move, especially his blending workshops. See what the hell they are doing. Remember, don’t be seen.”

“Yes, sir.” The deputy took the order and hurried away. He immediately found the spy who had been to the docks and was most familiar with the environment to relay the command.

However, they didn’t know that this web of surveillance sent by Julian had fallen right into another, larger web that had already been woven.

Late at night, Goldstone Winery.

The spy Julian placed his hopes on successfully infiltrated the core area of the winery. He carefully avoided the patrolling guards and reached the brightly lit blending workshop. Just as he attempted to peer through a gap in the window, a sudden, sharp pain hit the back of his neck. His vision went black, and he lost consciousness.

Lin Zhao caught his limp body silently and dragged him deep into the workshop like a sack of grain.

A moment later, the harsh sound of breaking metal and shattering glass shattered the winery’s peace.

When the winery guards rushed in with torches, they saw a scene of chaos: the specialized equipment used for mixing base wines to precise standards had been sabotaged, and a pungent smell filled the air. Lying beside the broken parts was a man in black, unconscious.

“It’s him!” a guard recognized him. “The guy who was acting suspicious at the docks a few days ago!”

The captain of the guard immediately tied the unconscious spy up. In the chaos, the invisible second person slipped from the shadows of the workshop and vanished into the night.

The next morning, a neatly written letter was hand-delivered to Mr. Ferreira, the owner of Goldstone.

Ferreira hadn’t slept all night and sat in his study with a stony face. On the desk before him were the sabotaged equipment parts. The spy caught last night was tight-lipped, insisting he was just drunk and stumbled in, knowing nothing of the damage. But Ferreira was no fool; he knew this was no accident.

He opened the envelope. The letter was from the recently famous “Anit Trading Company.”

The writer first expressed sympathy for the misfortune at his winery, then shifted to an earnest and serious tone, mentioning the “fire” at Funchal port a few days ago.

…In that unfortunate accident, we also happened to capture the same spy you seized last night. It has been verified that this person was sent by Mr. Julian Harrison. We thought this was merely overstepping in business competition, but we never imagined Mr. Harrison’s actions would be so devoid of a bottom line. Thinking of our shared status as Madeira merchants, we write to remind you to remain vigilant to avoid further malice.

The letter was signed “Anit.”

Ferreira’s hand trembled slightly as he held the paper. His thoughts churned. This letter from Anit arrived too timely—eerie in its punctuality.

Anit and Julian were both investors he was watching; there was no reason to believe one’s accusation against the other based on a single letter. However, it was indeed a lead worth investigating. After all, he had heard about the fire a few days ago.

As a veteran who had navigated the market for decades, Ferreira was accustomed to believing what he saw with his own eyes and heard with his own ears.

He called his trusted steward and whispered, “Go to the docks. Don’t alert anyone. Find out about the accident involving Anit’s goods a few days ago. I want every detail.”

The steward left. Two hours later, he returned with a grim report.

“Sir, I spoke with the captain of the Pride of Amsterdam. It’s a Dutch ship with no business with us. The captain remembers the small fire clearly because it started right next to his ship.”

The steward cleared his throat. “He said he saw the Anit people gathered around a pile of scorched goods in great distress; the loss looked significant. As for the people present who didn’t belong to Anit, there was indeed a familiar face.”

“Oh?” Ferreira leaned forward slightly.

“Yes, sir,” the steward continued. “The captain said he remembered the face because he is currently frustrated with the speculators driving up wine prices. He complained that he saw that same face a few days prior, standing behind that loud young Englishman—Mr. Harrison.”

After hearing the report, Ferreira leaned back in his chair and slowly closed his eyes.

Julian Harrison. He had briefly sparred with Julian’s father before; this wasn’t the first time he’d encountered such tactics. It seemed the son had learned every one of the father’s insidious tricks.

Originally, compared to John Eyre who had physical assets in Madeira, he was more willing to work with an unstable speculator like Julian to avoid future complications. Now, it seemed that path was closed.

And now, the blending equipment was destroyed, and there were only a few days left before the signing. Rather than finding another winery to partner with, it was more convenient to work with the Eyre family, who had already shown great interest.

He opened his eyes and arranged his next destination: “Prepare the carriage. I am going to Vine Manor.”