Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 56

Chapter 56: Ghost Friends — Does Lin Zhao have her own “Lin Zhao”?

Time has no meaning in the void; ten seconds and ten years are but a blink of an eye.

Within the deep darkness, Jane’s consciousness was awakened by a voice calling her name. No, rather, it was a chorus of voices calling only for her.

“Jane, Jane… Jane!”

Sitting up, Jane squinted for a long time to adjust to the light before she could clearly see the person kneeling before her.

It was still Lin Zhao, but a “human” Lin Zhao, her brow furrowed just as Jane had seen it before losing consciousness.

Dreams are often clearer than drunkenness. Jane realized instantly that she was dreaming again.

“Do you sleep too? No, wait, there’s no time to ask that. I need your help!” This time, Lin Zhao looked to be about her age, appearing as she did at that strange school Jane had seen before.

Her tone was so urgent that Jane didn’t have time to think. She allowed herself to be pulled up from the bed.

The surroundings were unfamiliar once more, but clearly indoors. A bed, a desk—it looked like a bedroom. Light streamed in from an open window, illuminating the fine peach fuzz on the side of Lin Zhao’s face.

Lin Zhao fished a palm-sized, box-like object from under the covers, tapping it repeatedly. Jane watched her, leaning in with curiosity. The glass top of the box glowed with a cold light, covered in dense black dots.

This was a part of Lin Zhao’s dreams that always felt alien to her.

Noticing her gaze, Lin Zhao tapped a few more times and handed her the box. Jane took it and peered inside. Looking closely, those “black dots” were characters she had seen before; Lin Zhao’s first project plan had been full of them.

This was the language Lin Zhao had truly grown up with.

Once she realized this, the dots transformed in her mind, taking on shape and meaning. Though Jane had never studied this language, she could suddenly understand exactly what was written.

“Congratulations to Lin Zhao for ranking first in this month’s examination,” she murmured, reading the meaning that surfaced in her mind.

Lin Zhao’s face suddenly popped up right in front of hers, eyes shining. “How about that! Pretty impressive, right? Quickly, praise me!”

Though she didn’t quite understand “monthly examination,” she understood “first place.” Jane recalled the school days Lin Zhao had mentioned back at Wheelwood, and she suddenly felt a sense of reality in this environment.

This was the Lin Zhao who had gone through experiences similar to her own.

“…Very impressive. I knew you could do it,” Jane praised her, instinctively using the same words Lin Zhao had once used to encourage her.

The girl’s eyes curved into crescents. “Thank you for saying so.”

Saying?

Jane realized late that this was the second unusual thing to happen. She wasn’t speaking English, and neither was Lin Zhao. Had she been speaking this foreign tongue in previous dreams too? Why hadn’t she noticed?

In dreams about Lin Zhao, there were always far too many things that defied understanding. The invisible barrier between them was much harder than she had thought.

Is this why Lin Zhao can never fully open her heart to me?

Lin Zhao seemed oblivious to her confusion. She hopped off the bed and headed straight for the wardrobe. “My mom promised me that if I did well on the exam, she’d take me out to dinner. I just called her—come help me pick out what to wear!”

“Me?” Jane blinked, find it somewhat hard to believe.

Lin Zhao, with half her head buried in the closet, answered without thinking: “Of course. Besides you, I don’t have any other friends.”

Friends.

Jane’s mind wandered again.

Strictly speaking, her relationship with Lin Zhao had never been defined. Teacher and student? But Lin Zhao lacked the constant severity and preaching of a master. Friends? But Lin Zhao felt different to her than Eleanor or the others. As for the “Fairy Godmother” title she used to joke about, it had long since faded into a distant nickname, unable to summarize the complex emotions of their daily life.

If they were like sisters… one thought of the Reed sisters made Jane immediately banish that idea with disgust. It seemed no secular relationship could perfectly frame the two of them.

However, this profound confusion belonged to the sixteen-year-old Jane Eyre of reality. Here, in this kaleidoscopic dream, facing a Lin Zhao of her own age who looked at her with expectation, those complex definitions lost their weight.

“Friend”… when that word came from the dream-Lin Zhao, it sounded so simple and warm. Perhaps, at least for this moment, that word was enough.

“Jane? Don’t you want to pick my clothes?” A slightly disappointed voice drifted from the closet.

How could she not? Picking clothes for Lin Zhao—even a younger Lin Zhao—was something Jane had practically dreamed of. She pushed her doubts aside, nodded enthusiastically, and followed Lin Zhao off the bed.

However, Jane soon realized that “dreams come true” aren’t always easy. Lin Zhao’s wardrobe didn’t have many clothes. More importantly, they were all very strange.

The dresses had only one layer of fabric, and lace patterns were few and far between. The upside, she supposed, was convenience. One piece and you were changed. Even then, there were few dresses; most were tops and bottoms, similar to the style the “ghost” Lin Zhao wore—so simple it made one wonder if the tailor was incompetent.

“What’s wrong? Do I look ugly in this?” Seeing her strange expression, Lin Zhao tilted her head, her brows drooping.

Lin Zhao was wearing a light-colored dress that ended at the knees, with a small lace border. What felt familiar to Jane was the collar design; the wide neckline revealed a stretch of pale neck, perfect for jewelry. Lin Zhao’s bangs were neatly combed, and her loose hair fell softly over her shoulders. She looked incredibly peaceful.

“…No. It suits you. You look very beautiful.”

Jane’s small disappointment over the fashion vanished instantly. Her eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously, fully immersing herself in the “dress-up game.”

“How about trying that one?”

By the time the palm-box lit up and started ringing, and Lin Zhao dropped the clothes to talk to herself with the box at her ear, Jane looked out the window and widened her eyes in shock. It felt like only a moment had passed, yet the sun was almost down.

Is this how Lin Zhao feels normally? That the passage of time is so unnoticeable? Her first instinct was this, and then she remembered the reason she had woken up in a panic from the last dream. She began searching the room for a mirror.

She looked inside. The face reflected in the smooth glass was familiar—undoubtedly her own.

How strange. Then who was the person who talked to Lin Zhao last time? Although Lin Zhao had called her by name, those hands definitely didn’t match.

Or did Lin Zhao have her own “Fairy Godmother,” just like she did? And she was only able to dream occasionally to gain a brief experience? But if Lin Zhao had her own “Lin Zhao,” how did she become a ghost at such a young age?

The moment she tried to think about the bizarreness of it all, her head began to throb. Jane took a deep breath to divert her attention, terrified she would wake up suddenly like last time. She had decided to use this opportunity to learn more about Lin Zhao, so that upon waking, she could close the distance between them—the emotional distance.

“…Jane.”

Lin Zhao’s voice had gone quiet, and she called out again through the silence. This time, her tone was markedly lower than before.

Jane turned around quickly. The eyes meeting hers were a pool of stagnant water.

She had seen this expression on Lin Zhao once before—in a dream during her first night at Vine Manor four years ago. On that rainy day, Lin Zhao’s face was bruised, her eyes dark, asking if it would be easier if she were dead.

Before Jane could react, Lin Zhao took three steps toward the bed and collapsed face-down into the covers, falling into a deathly silence.

Unlike her hesitation last time, Jane could clearly see the reason for this state. Something had broken Lin Zhao’s heart.

She walked over and stood by the bed, asking cautiously: “What is wrong, Lin?”

The head didn’t move. Just as Jane worried she had knocked herself unconscious and tried to pull her up, her hand grabbed nothing but air, passing straight through Lin Zhao’s body.

She lifted her hand in shock, staring at her palm as it gradually returned from transparency.

What does this mean now?

“…She said she wanted to introduce me to her boyfriend while we’re at it,” a muffled voice came from the blankets. “I want her to be happy, but… I don’t want anyone else at this dinner…”

“Anyone else but you. Jane.”

Jane could no longer handle the situation. Her intuition told her the “she” Lin Zhao mentioned was her mother, but projecting herself into that role, she couldn’t understand it.

Her brain slowed down, and with it, the world began to move in slow motion. Jane saw herself becoming transparent—not just her hand this time, but every part of her body.

“…” She tried to open her mouth, but no sound came out. Finally, she woke up in her bed with a gasp.

The ceiling was spinning. The daylight shining in from outside was blinding. She squinted, her breath catching as a sharp headache took hold. Her stomach felt like it was on fire; she wanted to vomit.

The troubles of the dream were swept away by this terrible hangover. Jane looked toward the door weakly, trying to call for Mrs. Alvis.

“Ugh…” She let out a dry heave, still unable to speak.

So miserable… I am never drinking that much wine again.

Her reflection didn’t last long before the door was pushed open. Someone unexpected walked in.

“…”

Meeting the eyes of Lin Zhao, who was carrying a tray, Jane tried to respond, but another dry heave escaped her the moment she opened her mouth.

Lin Zhao walked to the bedside, set down the tray, and reached up to remove her disguise from her face and hands. She pressed the back of her hand to Jane’s forehead. “…A bit warm. I’ve brewed some peppermint tea. Drink it and see if you feel better.”

Jane struggled to sit up, leaning against the headboard, dizzy. The fragrant cup was held before her; she lowered her head to take small sips. The coolness hit her throat, and the nausea finally subsided slightly.

Seeing Jane’s eyes clear up, Lin Zhao cleared her throat and spoke: “Jane, about your question from last night.”

Jane looked up at her, still a bit dazed.

“I’m thinking of inviting a new teacher for you from England… I believe you will like her. When she arrives, you can talk to her about that subject.”

A new teacher?

Jane took another sip of tea, her eyes darting around as she finally recalled fragments of the previous night. How she had drunk a whole tray of wine in a fit of pique, lunged into Lin Zhao’s arms to ask questions, and… the layers of mysteries from the dream she just had.

Perhaps talking to someone else might help figure it all out, just as she had told the story of “the girl and the ghost” to Eleanor back at Wheelwood.

Her throat still felt uncomfortable, making speech difficult, so Jane gave a small nod of agreement.

Lin Zhao observed her expression closely. When she saw that Jane truly didn’t object, her tense lips relaxed ever so slightly, and she let out a breath. She had been worried Jane wouldn’t agree, but it seemed that for a girl of this age, nothing was more attractive than solving a mystery dwelling in her heart.

Putting the teacup back on the tray, Lin Zhao stood up and put her disguise back on piece by piece.

“Well then, I must go arrange this. Shake off the alcohol slowly.” At this, her tone turned a bit stern. “Mr. Eyre asked me to tell you to consider your tolerance when drinking. I feel the same way. Don’t drink like this next time, okay?”

Jane, currently suffering the consequences of over-drinking, nodded again without a second thought. This time, the headache caught up with her movement; she stiffened and slowly reached for the teacup.

One must occasionally learn from one’s mistakes.

Lin Zhao, seeing her hold the cup steadily, turned and left the room.

It was nearly noon. She had already written the letter to London and sent it off. She wondered how long it would take to reach Constance and Helen.

One week later, at St. Thomas’ Hospital in London.

Helen Burns had just finished her daily rounds and returned to her dormitory when her roommate waved to her. “Burns, there’s a letter for you. I brought it back; it’s on the desk.”

“Thank you, Amy.”

Helen nodded, her eyes brightening. Without waiting to change clothes, she went to the desk. Seeing the envelope, her expression quickly shifted to hesitation. It was a very high-quality envelope, unlikely to have come from the person she was expecting a reply from.

Could it be…? Her first thought was her remarried father, but she doubted he would spend such money on fine paper for her.

Unable to guess the sender, she shook her head and opened it.

Respected Miss Burns,

Please forgive the liberty of this letter. You may recall me as Lintner; I once visited your hospital with Miss Constance.

I write to you to follow up on the matter we discussed previously. I mentioned then that I hoped to offer a position away from the school for Miss Temple. Due to a busy few months, I am only now able to present the formal details of the invitation. I hope for your understanding regarding the delay.

The position I can offer is that of a governess for a sixteen-year-old lady at Vine Manor, in Funchal, Madeira. This position is tentatively for one year, with a salary of one hundred pounds.

Should Miss Temple find her stay agreeable and wish to remain longer, future arrangements can be discussed; conversely, should she wish to leave early, the manor will not stand in her way.

All travel expenses to and from will be covered in full by the manor. You may find the salary generous, but please believe that with Miss Temple’s scholarship and character, she is entirely worthy of such compensation.

If you or Miss Temple have any doubts, you may inquire with Miss Constance at Augusta’s Dress Shop at any time. She understands the situation and will provide detailed answers.

If there are no issues, I entreat you to relay this intention to Miss Temple. Both I and the true client of this matter—Miss Jane Eyre—await her arrival with the most fervent anticipation.

In gratitude for your generous assistance, I have commissioned Miss Constance to make a donation to St. Thomas’ Hospital shortly. I also enclose twenty pounds with this letter as a small token of my personal appreciation; I insist you accept it.

Thank you again for your help.

Sincerely, Lintner

Helen read the letter several times before she could believe it was real. She pulled out the twenty pounds from behind the paper, her brow furrowing even more.

“Amy, I have to go out. If Miss Boss asks, please tell her for me.”

With that, she tucked the envelope away and hurried out.