London’s social whirl was far more relentless than that of Madeira. Grand ballrooms teemed with the sons and daughters of high society.
Elegant string music wove through the scents of perfume and powder, as ladies glided in sweeping gowns and gentlemen conversed in hushed tones, painting a quintessential scene of upper-class society. Jane and Eleanor moved among them, deftly promoting their unique custom wine service.
“Is that Georgiana Reed?”
Eleanor gently tugged at Jane’s sleeve, her gaze settling with complex emotions on a figure amidst the crowd not far away.
Jane followed her line of sight. Nearby, a young woman in an opulent gown and exquisite makeup was surrounded by several gentlemen and ladies, her expression carrying its usual air of haughtiness. Georgiana—the cherished daughter of Mrs. Reed, the cousin who had cast so many shadows over Jane’s childhood.
Beside her stood a tall, slender figure. Golden hair was curled into the most fashionable style of the day, adorned with a dazzling jeweled hairpin that complemented the lavish, full-skirted gown she wore.
Beatrice.
It was the latter’s appearance that surprised Jane more than Georgiana’s. She glanced sideways, noticing that although Eleanor remained silent, her gaze was also fixed on that former friend.
“It is her,” Jane answered after a slight hesitation.
“Hmm, this is the first time I’ve seen her here,” Eleanor withdrew her gaze, a trace of haste flickering in her eyes. “Let’s move to the other side.”
Jane could easily discern who her friend truly wished to avoid. Without comment, she nodded and was about to leave with Eleanor—but their earlier scrutiny had been somewhat noticeable. Alerted by someone beside her, Georgiana looked up.
Her eyes met Jane’s, slowly registering disbelief.
The next moment, Georgiana approached, wineglass in hand.
“Jane?” she called out uncertainly.
Jane gently drew the slightly flustered Eleanor behind her and calmly faced Georgiana.
“Good day, Miss Reed,” she inclined her head slightly, her tone distant yet polite, clearly delineating the boundaries between them.
Her gaze then drifted past Georgiana to Beatrice, who remained where she stood, idly sipping her wine, paying no heed to the conversation nearby.
Georgiana’s eyes first swept over Jane’s face, her brow furrowed with scrutiny. “You haven’t changed much since your time at Wellwood.”
Then her gaze fell upon Jane’s gown—the fabric was the finest silk from Lyon, tailored to perfection, understated yet exuding quality, clearly indicating its considerable cost.
Georgiana’s expression shifted instantly, the earlier scrutiny transforming into perfectly measured delight.
“Oh, heavens, it really is you!” she exclaimed, as if oblivious to the coolness in Jane’s reply, dramatically covering her mouth and stepping forward with exaggerated warmth. “I heard you were taken to Madeira by your… uncle. When did you return to England? It’s been so long since we last saw each other.”
Faced with Georgiana’s overly familiar demeanor, Jane found her own heart remarkably undisturbed. She replied calmly, “There is no need for your concern, Miss Reed.”
This lukewarm response froze Georgiana's enthusiasm on her face. Her expression cooled slightly as she sized up Jane, her tone turning sharp: "You're now at an age where you can attend such balls. What, have you come to find yourself a good husband?"
"I'm here for business," Jane replied calmly.
"Business?" Georgiana sounded as if she'd heard a joke, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, I recall your uncle is a wine merchant, isn't he? Ah, could it be that the custom wine service that's become quite popular among young ladies recently is your doing?"
Jane offered a polite smile, tacitly acknowledging it.
Georgiana's eyes instantly lit up. The previous pretense and sharpness vanished without a trace, replaced by an almost fawning enthusiasm: "Good heavens, Sophia mentioned it! She said it was the best wine she'd ever tasted! You have a membership system, don't you? I'd like to join too!"
"Yes," Jane's smile remained polite yet distant. "The annual fee for a junior membership is fifty pounds."
"Fifty... pounds?" Georgiana's expression shifted slightly, her eager smile freezing as if doused with ice water. She fiddled awkwardly with her skirt, muttering under her breath: "Ah... if only Jack hadn't been corrupted by that crowd and gambled away the family fortune, that might have been a price worthy of the service..."
She quickly looked up again, adopting a pitiful expression as she tried to cozy up: "Jane, look, we are cousins after all. Couldn't you give me a discount? Consider it that I owe you a favor."
Jane's gaze fell on her face, and even she hesitated at that expression. Before she could respond, Eleanor, who had been silent until now, stepped forward.
She shook her head gently, her tone soft yet carrying an unyielding firmness: "I'm sorry, Miss Reed, Jane and I have some matters to discuss. Perhaps you could continue enjoying the festivities for now, and we'll give you an answer later."
Without waiting for Georgiana's half-hearted agreement, Eleanor took Jane's hand and quickly led her toward the balcony of the ballroom.
The cool night breeze brushed past, carrying away some of the ballroom's stifling heat. The balcony was sparsely populated, offering them a quiet space to talk.
"She's simply..." Eleanor's cheeks flushed with anger as she consulted with Jane. "Are you really going to agree to her request? She has no idea how terribly she's treated you!"
Seeing her friend's righteous indignation on her behalf warmed Jane's heart. She reached out and gently pressed Eleanor's arm, signaling her to calm down.
"Lina, don't be angry," Jane said softly. "Doing business means encountering all sorts of situations."
"Business?" Eleanor's voice rose involuntarily. "Jane, how can this just be business? She hurt you!"
"Yes, she hurt me," Jane admitted frankly. Her gaze drifted past the balcony railing, toward the hazy London night in the distance.
Truth be told, she was somewhat surprised herself—facing the Reeds, she felt far calmer than she had imagined.
Her memories of them were no longer confined to the grievances of childhood. As Georgiana had mentioned, the Whirlwood competition still left a vivid impression.
"Lina, it's all in the past. We can't live in the past forever, can we?"
She turned back to meet Eleanor's concerned gaze, smiling as she continued to explain.
"You and I both know Georgiana's character—she's vain, loves to show off, and is at the center of the social circle. If she becomes our member, with her personality, everywhere she goes, people will learn just how 'unique' and 'expensive' our custom wine service is. That would be more effective than attending ten banquets for promotion."
Seeing Eleanor's still-furrowed brow, Jane sighed softly, her tone tinged with a hint of emotion. "As for what she did in the past... honestly, even I'm surprised at how calm I feel about it—much calmer than I expected."
"Perhaps it's because the struggles back at Gateshead were nothing more than caged birds pecking at each other. But now, our circumstances are completely different."
Her voice grew even softer, as if speaking to Eleanor, yet also to herself.
"I clearly realize that our fates no longer intersect in the same narrow space. I've grown strong enough—strong enough that her words and actions can no longer trouble me."
As she spoke, a familiar spark reignited in Jane's eyes, the kind that had always captivated Eleanor. It was a blend of determination, confidence, and boundless hope for the future.
"I have new goals now, Lena," Jane smiled slightly, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "I want to earn money, to be independent, to become a merchant as famous as Miss Constance—or even more so. I want to buy an estate larger than any manor myself."
Her voice was filled with strength, each word firm and resolute.
"So," she looked at Eleanor, her gaze strikingly bright, "even if ten Georgianas stood before me, as long as they could help me earn money and achieve my goals faster, I wouldn't refuse."
Eleanor's eyes rested on Jane's face. The composure and resolve that seemed beyond her years gradually eased the unease in Eleanor's heart. She had never intended to overstep; since Jane herself felt it was fine, she naturally wouldn't say more.
Seeing Jane's confident smile, Eleanor couldn't help but ask again, somewhat awkwardly, "Really? You taught me not to compromise myself—don't go back on your word."
Jane nodded earnestly. "Thank you for caring about me, Lena. I've truly thought it through. Don't worry, I won't compromise myself!"
Hearing this, Eleanor's brow finally relaxed. She smiled genuinely and said, "Yes. You are Jane, after all. So, let's go back and make the most of her to spread our business even further!"
With that, she turned to head back inside, but Jane gently linked arms with her, her tone shifting. The earlier confidence melted into quiet concern. "Wait, Lena—we've been talking about me, but your feelings matter too—"
"What have you been discussing for so long?" A cold voice interrupted them. "Fooling Georgie is one thing, but I don't believe discussing membership takes this long."
It was a voice all too familiar—clear and sharp.
Jane and Eleanor exchanged a glance, both knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
"Long time no see, Betty," Jane turned around, meeting her hostile gaze calmly. "If you're interested in our business, I'm sure Lena would be more than happy to have you as one of our premium members."
Beatrice's brow tightened, stung by her words.
"Who would want to be part of this," she said, glancing toward Eleanor. "Lena, you..." Her words trailed off abruptly.
Eleanor looked at her, brows slightly furrowed, appearing rather distressed. Upon hearing Beatrice call her name, she instinctively reached for Jane's sleeve and pressed her lips together.
"...Never mind. We were just roommates during our school days. Now, I truly have nothing to say to either of you." Beatrice tightened her grip on her skirt, her tone growing calm. "It's just that Georgie asked me to hurry you along." With that, she turned away.
Before she could take a step, Jane called out to her, "Betty, after all this time apart, is that really all you have to say to us?"
There was only a moment's hesitation, but in the end, the tall figure offered no response and walked straight back to Georgiana, who had been watching them all along.
"Betty has changed a lot, hasn't she." Though phrased as a question, there was no real inquiry in her tone. Eleanor sighed, not even glancing in the direction Beatrice had gone.
Jane gently patted the back of Eleanor's hand, but her gaze shifted between the two of them several times.
The atmosphere between them felt off. Instinct told her there was something more between the two that she didn't know about.
But this was merely speculation. Eleanor showed no intention of discussing it now, and Jane wouldn't press the matter at an inappropriate time.
After only a moment of melancholy, Eleanor perked up again. She looked around, her eyes settling on a group of people not far away.
"Those are some people I know over there. Lillian loves to drink—shall I go ask her?"
Jane nodded, releasing her hand, and watched as Eleanor slipped away in another direction.
When Jane looked up again to search for Georgiana, Beatrice was no longer by her side.
Jane stood by the railing of the terrace for a moment, gathering her thoughts before stepping back into the bustling banquet hall. Georgiana was chatting and laughing with several young ladies. When she saw Jane approaching, a flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes, and she nodded toward them.
"This way, Jane."
They moved away from the group Georgiana had been speaking with.
"Miss Reed," Jane addressed her, maintaining a polite distance as she got straight to the point. "Regarding the membership, I can offer you a discounted rate—thirty pounds per year."
Before Georgiana's smile could fully bloom, Jane continued with her condition, "But in exchange, you must introduce at least three other members who are willing to pay the full price within a month."
Georgiana's eyes shifted as she quickly calculated the deal. Trading her connections for a tangible discount and early access to this fashionable circle was a win-win for her.
"Deal!" she agreed promptly, extending her hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Eyre."
Jane retrieved an elegantly crafted card from her handbag and handed it to her. On it was only an address and the gilded initials "J.E."
"This is the temporary contact point for our salon, as well as the place to collect wine and receive custom consultations. You may present this card when you visit." It was John Eyre's small wine shop in London—a well-located building that Jane intended to turn into the first base for their venture.
Georgiana accepted the card with a satisfied smile and, without further ado, turned back to where she had been.
With the deal with Georgiana settled, Jane felt little inner turmoil. Her thoughts now were more focused on Eleanor.
However, when she searched for her friend's figure once more, she found that Miss Lillian's side was also already empty. She moved through the crowd, her gaze sweeping over familiar and unfamiliar faces alike, from the dance floor to the dining tables, yet Eleanor's presence seemed to have melted away into the shimmering, colorful surroundings, nowhere to be found.
Something was wrong.
A sense of unease crept into her heart. Growing anxious, she was just about to seek out Miss Lillian, whom Eleanor had pointed out to her earlier, when a familiar figure caught the corner of her eye, emerging from behind the glass door leading to the garden.
It was Beatrice, who had also disappeared for a while.
The sharpness that had previously marked her expression was gone, replaced only by a cold weariness, as if brushed by the night breeze. Her beautiful eyes had lost their sparkle, appearing somewhat hollow.
As she looked up, her gaze met Jane's with unnerving precision.
Jane's heart skipped a beat.
Could Eleanor's disappearance be related to Beatrice?
Even though she had just resolved not to pry before Eleanor was ready to confide, this thought now wavered. To her surprise, after a brief moment of regaining her composure, Beatrice walked straight toward her.
"Jane," Beatrice stopped in front of her, her tone stiff and her voice slightly hoarse, "we need to talk."
Author's Note: Note 1: In the 19th century, Lyon, France, was world-renowned as the "Silk Capital." The silk produced there was celebrated throughout Europe for its exquisite craftsmanship, magnificent designs, and exceptional quality. For the upper class of the time, owning a gown made of Lyon silk was a symbol of status and taste.
Meanwhile, Lin Zhao was...
The sky had long since brightened, but the door to the other bedroom remained tightly shut.
Standing at the desk in the study, Lin Zhao filed away the last order, her gaze drifting worriedly toward that direction.
Last night, Jane had returned very late, her exhaustion and preoccupation unmistakable in her eyes. When Lin Zhao tried to inquire, Jane only mentioned running into an old acquaintance.
At this time of year, the old acquaintance one might encounter at a London soirée immediately brought Georgiana to Lin Zhao’s mind. But Jane clearly had no intention of elaborating. She buried herself in Lin Zhao’s embrace and murmured, “Lin, time is truly terrifying.”
After that, Jane fell silent, leaning against her, her breaths as light as sighs. When the quiet embrace ended, she said she needed some time alone to think and retreated into her room, closing the door behind her.
Since then, a night had passed, and it was well past Jane’s usual waking hour, yet there was still no sound from within.
When eleven-year-old Jane had reunited with John Eyre, “Jane” had asked if she intended to let go. Lin Zhao had joked, “Of course,” yet in the years that followed, she had never truly stepped back.
But now, when Lin Zhao said “of course,” it could no longer be a joke.
Jane had reached an age where she could handle her own troubles and was beginning to carve her own path toward becoming a remarkable businesswoman.
This unspoken distance between them had grown increasingly frequent lately, eventually manifesting as this door.
That door held little meaning for Lin Zhao, and Jane knew it too.
Yet the shared understanding of this boundary stood clearly between them.
Jane was no longer the little girl who needed Lin Zhao’s constant protection.
So Lin Zhao could only glance at the door from time to time, unable to truly cross it to soothe the worries of the person behind it.
To temporarily dispel her concern, Lin Zhao redirected her attention to the tasks at hand, her thoughts drifting back to the busyness of the past few weeks.
During this time, she had been acting as Mr. Gianetti’s agent, navigating the intricacies of factory connections.
Drawing on her old skills as an information broker, she secured a long-term lease for a nearly bankrupt textile factory on the outskirts of London with a deposit pressed to its lowest possible price. The old machinery there was rusted, the factory building empty and dilapidated, yet Lin Zhao saw boundless potential within its walls.
The day after finalizing the factory deal, she paid a visit to Miss Constance.
In the office of the Augusta Atelier, as Lin Zhao laid out her factory renovation plans and staffing budget, Miss Constance’s friendly smile faded. Her lake-green eyes scanned the contract several times, and when she looked back at Lin Zhao, they burned with insight and ambition.
“Mr. Linte,” she said, her voice tinged with ignited excitement, “your employer, this Mr. Gianetti—his ambitions extend far beyond merely providing manufacturing for my brand, don’t they?”
Miss Constance was exceedingly cautious in business matters, a fact Lin Zhao well understood.
She replied with equal sincerity, “Mr. Gianetti believes that owning one’s own production line is the foundation of all great endeavors. And Augusta’s quality deserves a dedicated, efficient production line. This is a mutually beneficial partnership.”
Miss Constance gazed at her, her sharp eyes seeming to pierce through the veil. After a moment, she smiled—an expression of genuine admiration for a worthy opponent.
"I appreciate ambitious partners," she said, picking up a pen and signing her name on the preliminary cooperation agreement with a flourish. "Please convey to Mr. Gianetti that I look forward to witnessing the laying of this cornerstone."
The collaboration with Constance breathed the first breath of life into the factory. Soon after, a new opportunity was personally delivered to her by Constance herself.
"St. Thomas Hospital has a large new order for custom patient gowns," Miss Constance mentioned during one of their meetings. "The quantity is substantial—more than Augusta can handle. Miss Burns has asked me to find a partner. I believe this would be an excellent fit for your factory."
This was precisely why Lin Zhao had decided to run a garment factory. With Constance's connections, both the quality of the garments and the orders had reliable sources. Without much hesitation, she nodded in agreement.
"Thank you. Then, as with our initial collaboration, Augusta will receive a commission from this order as well."
She then deftly shifted the conversation, testing the waters with a question.
"But will the hospital trust a new factory?"
Constance smiled. "Of course. Because I will personally vouch for you. Moreover, I informed Miss Burns—who is now the head of procurement—that the new supplier is the factory under your management. She was quite impressed with you and expressed a willingness to discuss the details further."
As expected, the negotiations with Helen proceeded exceptionally smoothly. In the hospital's office, Miss Helen Burns handed her the final contract.
"Mr. Linter, we trust Miss Constance's recommendation and have even greater confidence in your professional insight into the practicality of garments."
Helen's demeanor was professional, showing no sign of carelessness despite having seen through her disguised identity.
"In the draft contract, we hope to use the type of cotton fabric you mentioned earlier—the one that is easier to wash and dry. As for the price..."
"Mr. Gianetti is willing to offer a twenty percent discount below the market price for the hospital's order," Lin Zhao cut straight to the point. "We hope this can mark the beginning of a long-term partnership."
A flicker of approval flashed in Helen's eyes. She knew this was a significant concession for a new factory.
"On behalf of the hospital, I thank Mr. Gianetti for his generosity," she said solemnly.
Lin Zhao took the contract, her gloved fingers feeling the thickness of the paper. An order from St. Thomas Hospital represented not only a stable cash flow but also a dual recognition of her credibility and capabilities—a ballast stone ensuring the factory's smooth operation.
And so, under her guidance, the old factory quickly came to life.
Constance's orders guaranteed high-end quality and profit, while the hospital's orders provided a stable production base. Combined, the factory achieved considerable profitability almost from its first month of operation (though a full recovery of the initial investment would still require time, based on monthly income versus expenses alone).
Even though her university major was related to business, if someone had told Lin Zhao during her freshman year, "You will one day be fully responsible for running a factory," she would have found it utterly unbelievable.
Yet, the unpredictability of life had brought her to exactly this point.
In London, she moved, conversed, and forged contracts under the identity of "Lint," personally building a tangible, touchable commercial empire for Jane. Lin Zhao found herself even more captivated than she had imagined by the sense of accomplishment that came from creating something from nothing, from shaping a business with her own hands.
She was almost cured of her fear of numbers, because every fluctuation in the figures on the reports represented real, tangible accumulation of wealth. Unlike in Funchal, this was Jane's true journey toward independence, drawing ever closer to the vision of a new, happy life that Lin Zhao had envisioned for her.
"To make you happy."
What had begun as words of self-comfort were now deeply etched into her heart, an unquestionable mission that Lin Zhao held firm.
But this current arrangement of being apart was hard to say whether it was good or bad.
She knew all too well that being constantly by Jane's side now was far less practical than being apart to earn money. Even so, Lin Zhao didn't want to grow completely distant from Jane.
When Jane was preparing the first version of the wine list, she had even enlisted quite a few people to help taste-test. After that came the recruitment of the first batch of members, with Jane and Eleanor throwing themselves wholeheartedly into the bespoke wine salon business, much like how Lin Zhao was consumed with the factory.
Although on the first day they moved into their new residence, Jane had enthusiastically suggested they could live together as they used to, the reality was that one left early for factory production while the other returned late from social engagements at banquets. Their schedules were completely opposite, and in the end, they each retreated to their own rooms.
Various situations could arise at banquets, and Lin Zhao would accompany her when she had time. But yesterday, of all days, the factory had a delivery to make, and she had to oversee it—and that was when Jane encountered some situation she knew nothing about.
...It always circled back to this.
Lin Zhao glanced worriedly at the door once more, her unspoken greeting caught in her throat.
"I want to be alone for a while, to think things through. I'll talk to you when I've sorted it out, Lin. Until then, don't worry too much."
Jane's words from last night echoed in her mind again.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, dissolving into the air. In the end, she said nothing, silently picking up the neatly organized documents instead.
There was a new batch of fabric arriving at the factory today that required her personal supervision—perhaps staying busy was the only way to temporarily forget her worries. It was time for her to leave.
London was overcast again today.
Instead of hailing a carriage at the street corner as she usually did, Lin Zhao chose to walk.
She wouldn't press Jane for answers, but she couldn't rest without making any inquiries. Jane had attended last night's banquet with Eleanor, so she decided to visit Augusta to ask.
When she entered the shop, Constance was instructing a tailor to inspect a newly arrived batch of silk. Seeing her, Constance assumed she had come to discuss factory matters and gave her a familiar nod, leading her into the office.
As soon as the door closed, Constance's customer-friendly warmth melted into the seriousness unique to business partners. She got straight to the point: "Is there an issue with the new batch of fabric, or does an order need adjusting?"
Lin Zhao realized the misunderstanding and shook her head. "Neither, Miss Constance. I'm here today about a personal matter."
"Personal matter?" Constance was taken aback. Her shrewd business demeanor instantly softened, and her lake-green eyes filled with genuine concern. "What's wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"It's not exactly trouble," Lin Zhao chose his words carefully, asking as if offhandedly, "I'm just a bit curious—how was Eleanor's mood after she returned from the party last night? Jane seemed utterly exhausted."
Upon hearing this, Constance leaned back in her chair, recalling for a moment.
"About the same as usual, just looking a bit more tired. But that’s only natural, considering how lively the ball was." As she spoke, she suddenly caught onto something, leaning forward slightly and countering, "But you came all the way here today to ask about this—is something wrong with Jane?"
Lin Zhao’s heart tightened, but his expression remained calm, his voice betraying no emotion. "It’s nothing. As you know, their bespoke wine salon is at a critical stage. I was just checking in on the progress of the business."
Only then did Constance understand, letting her guard down as she smiled reassuringly.
"So that’s what you were worried about. Don’t worry—I’ve mentioned Jane’s salon to several ladies who came in for custom gowns recently, and they were all quite interested. I think they won’t have any trouble finding their first batch of members."
Seeing that no useful information could be gleaned here, Lin Zhao stood up to take his leave. "That puts my mind at ease. I have matters to attend to at the factory, so I’ll be on my way."
"Of course, let me see you out."
However, as soon as the two left the office and returned to the elegant, bustling front hall of the shop, the bell on the door chimed crisply.
A plainly but respectably dressed lady pushed the door open. Her eyes lit up the moment she spotted Lin Zhao, who was about to leave, and she hurried forward.
"Mr. Lin," Helen Burns called out, "please wait!"
Helen quickened her pace, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly into a restrained, polite smile. In contrast to her expression, the urgency in her eyes was far more direct.
"Mr. Linter," she first nodded to Lin Zhao in greeting, then turned to Constance beside him with an apologetic smile. "Miss Constance, good morning. I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Miss Burns, it's a pleasure to see you," Constance replied gracefully. "Our meeting has just concluded. It seems you have business with Mr. Linter?"
"Yes, a small matter regarding a factory order." Helen's gaze returned to Lin Zhao, her wording exceedingly tactful. "Mr. Linter, I wonder if you might spare a few minutes to speak in my carriage? It's just outside and won't take long."
Constance, being perceptive, immediately understood this signaled a need for a private conversation. She offered an understanding smile. "Please, go ahead. Mr. Linter, I'll excuse myself."
Lin Zhao nodded to her in acknowledgment, then followed Helen out of the tailor's shop.
A simple, sturdy four-wheeled carriage stood by the roadside. The moment the door closed, it shut out the street's clamor and all prying eyes.
Only then did Helen fully relax and get straight to the point.
"Mr. Linter, please forgive my presumption. The truth is, it's not a hospital order," she explained sincerely. "It's a commission from St. John's Church near the hospital. The order they belong to recently expressed a wish to provide a unified set of new habits for the nuns serving across various parts of London, but their budget is extremely limited."
She looked at Lin Zhao, a plea in her eyes. "What they need are durable, plain cotton uniforms, roughly fifty sets. I know this is a small order for a factory, with meager profits, but they genuinely need assistance. So, I thought to ask for your opinion."
Lin Zhao listened quietly. Looking at the composed and kind woman before her, she recalled her long-held, yet postponed, wish to introduce Jane to Helen.
Jane's fate was already deeply intertwined with Helen's. Now that they were both in London and no longer bound by their original passive roles and ages from the story, wasn't this the perfect opportunity?
Deepening her connection with Helen through this collaboration would make a future introduction natural, rather than forced.
As for the order's profit...
"The significance of this order goes far beyond a mere business transaction," Lin Zhao decided, softening her voice. "I believe Mr. Gianetti would be willing to undertake it at cost, as a gesture of goodwill to the community."
Helen's eyes instantly lit up with pleasant surprise. "Really? Thank you so much for your generosity!"
She seemed genuinely delighted and promptly extended a further invitation. "To help the factory better understand their needs, I had already planned to visit the church this afternoon. If you have time, would you be willing to accompany me for an on-site visit?"
"The honor would be mine," Lin Zhao agreed without hesitation.
Whether going to the church or returning to the factory, it was all business. Getting closer to Helen was clearly more helpful for alleviating the troubles she faced when venturing out.
Unable to glean any information from Constance, there was no way to know whether Jane's despondency was related to Eleanor. But if it truly was an issue between friends, perhaps a new friend could divert Jane's attention and help alleviate her distress?
"Sir, please head to St. John's Church," Helen instructed the coachman after receiving her answer.
Lin Zhao gazed out the window at the flowing street scenes, the worry stirred by Jane temporarily replaced by contemplation brought on by this new idea.
The carriage passed through London's bustling commercial district and turned into a quieter neighborhood. The soft afternoon sunlight bathed the ancient stone walls. St. John's Church was not grand, yet it exuded a solemn and serene dignity, weathered by time.
Helen led Lin Zhao through a side door, where a kind-faced elderly nun named Margaret was already waiting.
She expressed sincere gratitude for Helen's introduction and Lin Zhao's generosity, then proceeded to guide them, detailing the convent's needs and current difficulties.
Just as Sister Margaret unfolded a worn, faded habit with several patches, showing Lin Zhao the seams that needed reinforcement, a slightly sharp but deliberately hushed female voice came from the doorway of the nearby prayer room.
"...Since you've come, you should abide by the rules here. If your mind is elsewhere, you might as well return sooner."
Lin Zhao's body tensed instantly.
That voice, that familiar, judgmental tone—she knew it all too well. Instinctively, she turned slightly, using the brim of her top hat and the shadow of her veil to conceal herself further.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman in a dark, long dress, with a stern and rigid expression, emerging from the shadows. Beside her followed a young nun, whose face was remarkably serene, her eyes clear—a stark contrast.
It was Eliza Reed.
The unpleasant memory of her caused Lin Zhao's heart to skip a beat, but a moment later, this wariness was suppressed by absolute rationality. She quickly reminded herself: she was now Lin Te, a stranger Eliza had never met.
Eliza clearly hadn't noticed the thoroughly bundled gentleman in the corner; she was merely speaking to the young nun beside her.
When she looked up and saw Helen, she stopped and approached with the nun.
"Miss Burns," Eliza stepped forward, offering Helen an exceedingly brief nod, her impatience slightly restrained. "You are here today as well."
"Miss Reed," Helen replied calmly.
The young nun also bowed to Helen. When her gaze met Helen's, the solemnity of her faith seemed to melt for a moment, becoming exceptionally gentle and warm.
Sister Margaret was evidently familiar with Eliza as well. She spoke softly in greeting, "Miss Reed, your prayers are earlier than usual today. Has something happened?"
Eliza frowned at the question, as if recalling something. After a moment, she replied in an extremely impatient tone, though it seemed directed more at the necessity of answering itself:
"I must seek some peace outside. In that house, not a moment of tranquility can be found. John's extravagance is an endless source of trouble, and Georgiana—she spent the entire day today talking about some fashionable wine-tasting salon she just joined. It's all so ostentatious, so utterly meaningless."
Wine-tasting salon.
Lin Zhao's hand beneath her cloak tightened imperceptibly.
She was almost certain that the wine-tasting event Georgiana mentioned was related to Jane.
So, at last night's banquet, Jane had indeed encountered Georgiana Reed.
Helen listened quietly, her expression calm and unruffled. After Eliza finished speaking, she slowly began, her voice as gentle and resolute as ever:
"Perhaps fate tests each of us in different ways, Miss Reed. Quiet devotion is one trial, enduring the frivolity of the world is another."
As soon as her words fell, the young nun beside her lifted her eyes, gazing deeply at Helen, and added with clear agreement, "Miss Burns always speaks with the greatest wisdom."
Then, turning to Eliza, her tone gentle but firm, she said, "Then, Miss Reed, let us not disturb Miss Burns any further. The time for prayer is approaching."
Eliza seemed to have no intention of lingering either. Persuaded by the nun, she nodded to Helen once more and turned to follow her deeper into the prayer room.
With their departure, the two ladies before her turned their attention back to the old habits. Lin Zhao forced herself to refocus on the matter at hand, finalizing the details of the fabric and the method of taking measurements with Sister Margaret and Helen.
Once the business was settled, she politely took her leave. Stepping out of the church and into the afternoon sunlight, Lin Zhao felt no warmth at all.
One undeniable fact occupied her mind: Jane's past had caught up with her new life in London.
Carrying this heavy thought, she attended to all the backlogged matters at the factory. The roar of machinery, the figures in the ledgers, the clamor of the workers—things that usually gave her a sense of control—felt distant today.
Her thoughts kept drifting back to that tightly closed door.
In the original story, eighteen-year-old Jane would return to Gateshead due to Mrs. Reed's illness and reunite with her cousins. This was the "fate" Lin Zhao knew.
But now, seventeen-year-old Jane had come to London, and her reunion with them seemed to have advanced to a corresponding point.
The events of this part of the original story held nothing so serious that she felt compelled to intervene. For the moment, Lin Zhao was uncertain about what to do next—after all, although Jane had encountered Georgiana, there was no concrete evidence yet that her emotions were truly affected by it.
Perhaps she really needed to inquire with Jane herself?
Lost in thought, Lin Zhao made her way back to their residence. It was late, and as she pushed open the door, the expected silence did not greet her.
A warm light glowed in the dining room, where a simple yet carefully prepared dinner was laid out on the table. And Jane—the Jane who should have been mingling at banquets or salons—was just placing the final dish on the table.
"Lin, you're back?" Hearing the footsteps, Jane looked up. The gloom from the previous night was gone, replaced by a slightly shy smile. "I thought it had been a while since we sat down and talked properly, so I prepared dinner."
After speaking, she paused for a moment before adding, "I know you're not very interested in the food here, so I only prepared drinks. Would you like to sit with me for a while?"
The scene before her softened Lin Zhao's heart. She took off her cloak and hat and walked over to sit at the dining table.
"Of course," she said, her gaze lingering on Jian's smiling eyes. She wondered whether she should bring up the events of the day now, hesitating for a moment. "But I remember you had plans for tonight."
"Canceled," Jian replied naturally, still setting a place for her at the table.
Before sitting down, Jian didn't forget to pick up a crystal-clear glass from a nearby side table and hand it to her. Inside, a pale golden liquid swirled, with a few mint leaves floating gently.
"This is for you."
Meeting Lin Zhao's slightly puzzled gaze, Jian introduced it with a mix of anticipation and nervousness:
"I know you don't usually drink, so I specially made you something light—it's based on a fruity brandy, very low in alcohol, with honey and citrus juice added. It's the most popular drink among our salon members this month, and I wanted you to try it too... my work."
Lin Zhao looked at the glass in front of her, then raised her eyes to meet Jian's.
Jian's expression was undoubtedly relaxed at this moment. The warm light fell on her smiling face, casting a soft, hazy glow. But the green eyes held a flicker of light even more elusive than the lamplight, hiding the sincerity Lin Zhao longed to see.
She had no interest in alcohol, and the dizziness it brought was something she had always avoided. Yet she could tell that Jian was using this drink to muster the courage for what she wanted to say next.
Lowering her gaze, Lin Zhao reached out and grasped the cool surface of the glass.
"Alright, I'll give it a try."
She brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip. A fresh, sweet fruitiness bloomed on her taste buds first, followed by the mellow sweetness of honey. Finally, a faint, rich hint of alcohol rose gently, warm but not burning.
"How is it?" Jian leaned forward slightly, almost holding her breath.
"I don't know much about drinks," Lin Zhao said honestly as she set the glass down, "but it makes me feel good."
"Really..." the mixologist murmured, her curved eyes seemingly filled with joy at the compliment. Her delicate eyelashes, illuminated by the light, cast clusters of shadows on her eyelids, obscuring most of her gaze.
She picked up her own glass and gently clinked it against Lin Zhao's.
"Thank you, Lin," she said.
Lin Zhao set her glass down but couldn't help sighing.
"Jian, you don't need to be like this in front of me. What do you want to talk about?"
Jian also put down her glass, her hands moving restlessly as she picked up a fork and poked at the food on her plate, her lips drooping instantly. She glanced up hesitantly. "...Lin, I remember you told me you have a friend."
Lin Zhao's thoughts raced, nearly blurting out a denial before she finally recalled that this was a remark she had made while chatting with Jian about names back in Wellwood.
A friend... Could her imaginary friend serve as a reference in this situation?
On second thought, was this about Eleanor again? Did she need to bring up introducing Helen sooner rather than later?
Her mind was busy calculating, but Lin Zhao's expression remained calm. "Yes, what about it?"
Jane fell silent, lowering her head to stare at her plate. She kept poking at the sausage with her fork until it was nearly mashed into a pulp before finally speaking up under Lin Zhao's patient gaze. "Have you ever had a conflict with a friend? Like when you meet again after a long time and realize they've become a complete stranger?"
She tossed out another question.
With Eleanor? From what she'd seen this past month, Jane and Eleanor seemed to be getting along just fine.
A thousand questions flashed through Lin Zhao's mind in an instant, but she tried her best to maintain her role as the one offering answers and continued along Jane's line of thought. "If you're talking about appearances, that's actually quite common."
"Jane" seemed to change her look almost every time they met, only managing to keep a consistent style for a bit longer during their university days.
Jane stared at her eagerly, clearly wanting to ask about something else, so Lin Zhao had to pivot again.
"...But as for getting along, there haven't been any major conflicts." Of course, such a friend wasn't much of a reference point. Better to just ask directly. "Did something happen between you and Eleanor?"
The fork in the mashed sausage suddenly stopped. Jane's knuckles turned white from gripping the cutlery too tightly.
Having been called out so directly, she finally stopped beating around the bush. As if she had made up her mind, she poured out what was on her heart.
"It's Betty, Beatrice, Miss Knox—she's extremely unhappy about me bringing Lina into the business!"
Now it was Lin Zhao's turn to tremble. She gripped her cup tightly and took a nervous sip.
Oh, right. Jane had that friend too.
Under Lin Zhao's quiet, attentive gaze, the scene from last night when Beatrice stopped her flashed before Jane's eyes once again.
"...I thought I had made myself perfectly clear back then." Beatrice pulled her into a corner, her tone sharp and hostile. Those beautiful blue eyes were filled with a condescending scrutiny. "Lena is not like you. She shouldn't be living that kind of life—exposed to the public eye, full of risks."
It took Jane a few seconds to digest the meaning behind those words. A mixture of absurdity and disappointment welled up within her.
"Beatrice," her voice trembled slightly with disbelief, "do you truly believe that saying such things is for her own good?"
"At least it's better than what you're doing." Beatrice nodded firmly, her golden curls swaying faintly with the motion.
"She was doing so splendidly during the social season! My brother held her in high regard, and a respectable marriage was within reach. But as soon as you returned, everything was ruined! And now? You have her peddling drinks at parties like some merchant! Do you have any idea how many disdainful whispers this has attracted for her?"
There was too much information in those words, leaving Jane momentarily speechless. She narrowed her eyes slightly, scrutinizing the delicate face before her for what felt like the first time in a long while—and the last.
Under the dazzling lights, Beatrice, adorned in lavish attire, was beautiful and confident, exuding a charm that made listeners blindly follow. Jane had seen this countless times in Georgiana.
They were the same kind of people. Born into privilege, they accepted the world's adoration as a matter of course, intoxicated by the glamorous dreams of life, determined to exhaust all their brilliance within a few short years before quietly marrying into another household.
Jane had once genuinely believed that Beatrice was not one of them.
Now, years had flown by, and even the most beautiful memories had worn down into fragile bubbles. A single glance or word was enough to shatter them with a soft pop, leaving no trace behind.
"Lena was right—you really have changed a lot," Jane said, her tone now icy. "No, perhaps you've simply never changed at all."
A crack appeared in Beatrice's expression.
"What did Lena tell you?" She couldn't help but take a step forward, her tightly gripped skirt crumpling under her fingers. "Why does she only confide in you?"
Jane had completely lost interest in the conversation. She avoided the other woman and asked coldly, "Have you seen Lena? We should be leaving."
"Wait, I still have more to say—"
Jane swiftly dodged Beatrice's reaching hand, refusing to spare her another glance.
"In that case, forgive me for taking my leave, Miss Knox."
She walked away quickly, returning to the vicinity of the dance floor, where she finally spotted Eleanor. She was standing not far from the glass doors, staring absently at the crowd in the ballroom, unaware of Jane's approach until she was right in front of her.
"Ah, there you are, Jane." Eleanor snapped back to attention, instinctively forcing a smile, though it was tinged with undeniable weariness. "I asked several young ladies, and they all expressed interest in our salon."
Looking at her friend's strained expression, Jane swallowed back the questions she had about Mr. Knox. The argument with Beatrice had made her understand, more deeply than ever, the sorrow Eleanor had once felt.
People can never fully understand each other. This was something Jane had long felt.
Similar experiences give rise to topics of conversation, similar thoughts foster friendship, yet ultimately, people live in worlds separated by barriers.
Two people unaware of their differences can postpone the moment of awakening for a while; or, aware yet pretending not to know, they can choose tolerance and continue their time together—but clearly, Beatrice and the others did not fall into either of these categories.
So, the only way was to move forward.
Thinking that the words she had used to comfort Eleanor at the beginning had truly become the only solution, Jane’s heart grew heavier.
They parted outside the manor where the banquet was held, each boarding their own carriage home.
The road from the manor back to the city passed through a vast, tranquil field. The lights of civilization gradually faded at the end of the road, replaced by the moonlit, empty expanse of nature—a silent world.
Jane’s thoughts drifted from the rift between her friends, swaying and floating all the way to the moon.
What about her and Lin Zhao?
In this relationship, Lin Zhao always seemed to be the tolerant one, the understanding one. She always effortlessly said, "I understand," wiping away Jane’s tears. But Jane had glimpsed from her dreams that Lin Zhao, too, had a vivid, vulnerable side.
The dream about Lin Zhao suddenly surfaced before her eyes. Jane recalled those fragmented scenes—every heartbroken gaze of Lin Zhao, every word of trust directed at "her," and herself... never truly able to wipe away Lin Zhao’s tears in the dream.
"Jane."
Her own name, the name Lin Zhao always called when looking at her—why did it sound like a call to someone else in the mouth of that girl in the dream?
Why did she only confide in that unknown "her" in the dream? This was a lingering frustration that had troubled her since Funchal.
Now, thinking about it, this might precisely be a question related to "understanding."
She had always been puzzled by why Lin Zhao seemed to understand her so thoroughly, yet it was this very acceptance and tolerance that allowed her to truly open up to Lin Zhao. In contrast, she herself had never been able to say to Lin Zhao, "I understand you."
Thus, that vivid, tearful, smiling Lin Zhao existed only in dreams.
In front of the "Jane" who could make Lin Zhao say, "You understand, right?"
Getting tangled up in these thoughts again—something she had resolved not to do. She needed to act, to change—but reality was so cruel. The conversation with Beatrice made her clearly realize how distant and difficult it was to truly understand another person.
What she had received, what Lin Zhao had given, was far more than she had ever imagined.
The carriage stopped, and she arrived home. Warm light spilled from the living room, dispelling the chill of the night. Lin Zhao was sitting on the sofa waiting for her, a cup of water steaming gently on the table.
This was another peculiar, never fully adapted detail in her life with Lin Zhao. This habit of drinking only warm or hot water, of unknown origin, was just like many other things about Lin Zhao—unique, yet shrouded in mystery.
At first, she hadn’t asked much. Now, she had grown accustomed to it, allowing these mist-like, uniquely Lin Zhao aspects to slowly envelop her life.
"Lin, time is truly terrifying."
She threw herself into that embrace she had long grown accustomed to without even realizing it—an embrace she had even come to rely on. Yet she dared not voice what truly frightened her.
It was the secrets, the concealments, the parts that, in short, made mutual understanding impossible.
She had never imagined that before their inevitable parting arrived, there could be any other possibility of rupture. But now it seemed that as long as this relationship remained one of constant taking, this dreadful hidden danger would always exist.
In the end, Jane did not pour out her troubles that night. She merely drew a moment's warmth before turning back to her room, choosing to digest these turbulent emotions alone.
She hoped that the Jane Eyre who appeared before Lin Zhao the next day would still be the one focused on her career, positive and upward-striving.
Attributing last night's low spirits entirely to the rupture with her friend, Jane slowly stopped her narration and looked at the slightly furrowed face across from her.
"Is that so? So Beatrice told you all that." Concern, reserved only for her, surfaced on Lin Zhao's face. "She always speaks too harshly. Are you really feeling better now? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Just listening to me and tasting the drink I mixed is enough." Jane curved her eyes, her gaze tracing Lin Zhao's features. "After all, you've never encountered this kind of situation either, have you?"
"...I can somewhat understand the feeling of being betrayed." Lin Zhao sighed, her knuckles lightly tapping the table. "We've been so caught up in talking, look what you've done to the food. Eat up."
Jane blinked, obediently picking up her fork to spear the food on her plate that she had already poked into a mess, and took a silent bite.
Betrayed? In Lin Zhao's eyes, were her feelings that heavy?
She chewed slowly, watching the person across the table frown again and begin taking small sips of her drink. Even low-alcohol liquor is still liquor, and Lin Zhao's face soon flushed. She stared at her glass, lost in thought.
Jane didn't like Lin Zhao's silent expression. Whenever Lin Zhao drifted off with a slight frown, Jane felt a sense of unease, as if once Lin Zhao's gaze shifted away from her, it might never return.
She had to do something. She had to pierce through that haze.
"Actually, aside from that little episode, last night's ball was quite interesting." Jane set down her fork, breaking the quiet atmosphere.
Lin Zhao was brought back by her voice and unconsciously followed up, "Really?"
"Yes, I even ran into Georgiana Reed." Meeting Lin Zhao's gaze, Jane forced a bright smile. "It seems something happened at Gateshead. She's short on funds but wanted to attend my party. So I had her introduce some guests to me to cover the cost."
Lin Zhao's fingers, which had been idly tracing her glass, paused almost imperceptibly. "She didn't do anything to upset you, did she?"
"Not at all. We just made a business deal." Jane shrugged lightly.
Lin Zhao hesitated, as if weighing her words, but ultimately decided to speak. "What a coincidence, I also ran into someone from the Reed family during the day. It was Eliza, at St. John's Church."
Jane was somewhat surprised. "Eliza at church? That really doesn't seem like her style."
"Right?" Lin Zhao chuckled softly, clearly thinking the same.
Jane's curiosity was immediately piqued. She leaned forward slightly and pressed, "What about you, Lin? Why did you go to the church?"
"Oh, it was for a business matter at the factory," Lin Zhao replied naturally. "I went with Helen to discuss the details of a charity order."
Helen?
The sudden, intimate mention of that name made Jane's heart skip a beat. She could barely control her expression.
She had heard that name before—or rather, dreamed of it.
But Lin Zhao noticed her surprise and gently added, "Ah, that's Miss Burns, the one who introduced Miss Temple. Didn't I tell you her name?"
Her tone was perfectly open, yet Jane still caught a flicker of tension in her eyes.
"No," Jane answered quickly, forcing herself to stay calm.
Instantly, she remembered the dream she had at age eleven in the ship's cabin. In the dream, Lin Zhao sat on a dark staircase, vulnerably confessing, "I hate being alone." Those gray eyes looked at her and asked, "So, how is Helen?"
Jane didn't know if the Helen in the dream was the same as the one in reality.
If it was, then the present Lin Zhao should be well aware that they didn't know each other. So why would the Lin Zhao from the dream—if it truly was her past self—ask about the well-being of someone she didn't know, while also mentioning a school Jane had never attended?
Dreams, elusive and perplexing dreams about Lin Zhao and herself... How could she ever unravel this endless mystery?
Only through action. She had already decided to make a change.
Before Lin Zhao could speak again, Jane took the initiative, her face breaking into a bright, sincere smile.
"Since I was also taught by Miss Temple, I suppose Miss Burns and I share a sort of schoolmate bond." She gazed at Lin Zhao, her tone full of anticipation as she made her request. "Lin, if there's a chance, I'd like to meet Miss Burns as well."
Lin Zhao subtly sensed something off about Jane's demeanor. This initiative and eagerness were a stark contrast to her usual calm composure. Yet Jane's expression was flawless—her green eyes held only pure curiosity and friendliness, revealing nothing.
She could only nod and agree. "Alright, I was thinking the same."
With that affirmation, Jane lowered her head contentedly and continued her meal. She swallowed the food in her mouth, picked up her wine glass, and used the sweet liquid to mask the overwhelming mix of shock, doubt, and anticipation that threatened to spill over.
After finishing dinner intermittently, while cleaning up together in the kitchen, Jane leaned against Lin Zhao and suddenly asked a question.
"Is this you introducing another friend to me?"
Lin Zhao didn't catch on immediately and reflexively asked, "What?"
"Just like Eleanor back then."
"..." The words stung Lin Zhao slightly. She hesitated, unsure how to respond.
"Ah, I don't mean it as a complaint. Lin, I'm just looking forward to it," Jane linked her arm with Lin Zhao's and gave a trusting smile, similar to the one she had when welcoming her home. "The friends you introduce to me are always so much more worth knowing than the ones I meet on my own."
Her voice gradually softened.
"Probably no one in this world understands me better than you do."
So, I won't let you leave.
Author's Note: Forum Help Mini-Drama (Modern AU Version)
LinLinLin: Urgent! The child I adopted keeps staring at me without speaking since entering adolescence. We used to talk about everything. What's going on? Is she starting to feel distant because we're not blood-related?
Helpful Netizen: Don't worry, it's normal for kids to have their own thoughts as they grow up. It'll pass after adolescence. Just don't abandon them\~
LinLinLin: Alright...
——
Anonymous User: How can I become closer to my guardian, so close that we end up on the same household registration? Do I need to see a doctor for having such thoughts?
Helpful Netizen: What are you talking about? That's perfectly normal! It'd be weird if a child wasn't on the same household registration as their guardian!
Anonymous User: Thank you, I understand now ^^
Helpful Netizen: You're welcome! But if you're not on the same household registration, are they really your guardian?
Anonymous User: They will be soon. Ah, I mean the household registration.
Why Won’t She Listen to Me?
In the days following that evening’s dinner conversation, Lin Zhao noticed subtle changes in Jian’s attitude toward her.
Before heading out, Jian stood before her, carefully adjusting her necktie.
“Lin, lift your head a little,” Jian said, looking up at her with a gentle smile. “That’s perfect.”
Her soft fingertips brushed against the skin of Lin Zhao’s neck, sending a faint, ticklish sensation.
Lin Zhao’s breath hitched. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Jian stepped back, smoothly shifting the topic. “The salon event the other day was a great success. Mrs. Answorth placed a large order for wine. I might be busy for a while.”
Lin Zhao instinctively touched her necktie, pausing briefly before replying, “…Alright.”
[How strange.]
When she returned home, she found the kitchen table covered with bottles of wine. Jian was frowning slightly, jotting down notes in a notebook. At the sound of Lin Zhao’s arrival, she looked up, her troubled expression melting away instantly.
“You’re back?” Under the warm glow of the light, the girl’s voice was clear and bright. She hurried over, taking Lin Zhao’s hands in hers. “Lin, come sit down.”
Lin Zhao was led to the table, where she noticed a cup of clear liquid beside the colorful array of wines, its surface lightly steaming.
Jian’s face lit up with a proud smile, her eyes sparkling. “I timed it just right. The water should still be warm if you drink it now.”
“Ah…” Lin Zhao obediently picked up the cup, her cool palms instantly warmed by its heat. She gazed down at the water, her body—long numb to comfort—briefly stirring with thirst.
After finishing the water in one gulp, she turned to Jian, about to thank her, but the other girl spoke first, steering the conversation elsewhere.
“Lina mentioned that as autumn approaches, the tailor shop has received many new orders. Lin, the factory must be busy too, right? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“…Is that so? Autumn is almost here again.” Lin Zhao traced the rim of the cup, swallowing her words and following along with the topic. “The factory is indeed busy, but I can manage.”
[So strange.]
After finishing her work at the factory, Lin Zhao stepped into the tailor shop and saw Jian and Eleanor chatting by the window about business matters.
A knowing smile touched Lin Zhao’s lips. Not wanting to disturb them, she headed straight for the inner room, intending to find Constance in her office.
But after knocking, there was no response. Instead, footsteps sounded behind her.
“Lin, Miss Constance has stepped out and won’t be back for a while. She said you could wait for her inside.” Jian’s voice reached her ears. Lin Zhao turned in surprise to find that Jian had followed her without her noticing.
“What about Eleanor?” Lin Zhao asked, glancing worriedly behind Jian.
Jian chuckled softly, reaching past her to turn the doorknob. With a gentle push, she ushered Lin Zhao inside and closed the door behind them.
“I told Lina I wanted to discuss something private with you. She said she’d stay and look over the wine list a bit longer.” As she spoke, Jian naturally placed a hand on Lin Zhao’s shoulder, closing the distance between them until it felt like an embrace. “Your collar is flipped up.”
Lin Zhao held her breath, feeling the gentle tug at the back of her neck. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Jian to steady her as the girl rose onto her tiptoes.
Jian leaned forward, solidifying the embrace. She looked up at Lin Zhao, her eyes brimming with laughter. “Your hair is messy again.”
“What?”
The hand that had just adjusted her collar circled back, fingertips brushing past the corner of her eye before gently sweeping over her temple.
It tickled.
"Right here. I've wanted to tell you for a long time," Jian said, slipping out of her embrace and standing upright before adding, "But no one else can see it, so it really doesn't matter."
"Alright, that's all. I'm heading back now. Can't keep Lina waiting."
Those sly green eyes curved into a smile once more, giving her no chance to respond before Jian turned and walked away.
Lin Zhao watched the door open and close, and in an instant, the room was empty except for her.
[This is really strange.]
Similar incidents had occurred many times, under different circumstances.
Looking back, Jian's attitude toward her remained as trusting and affectionate as before. Yet, for some reason, in moments like these—just like the unintentional brush of fingertips against her skin—her heart would always flutter with a faint, ticklish sensation.
Moreover, unable to voice her doubts in the moment, after experiencing it repeatedly, Lin Zhao grew certain.
It was definitely not her imagination. Jian seemed to be using the same distraction tactics she herself had employed when Jian was a child.
Why?
Trying to recall how she had felt when she used to do this, Lin Zhao grew more and more puzzled.
Most of the time, she had resorted to such tactics when the topic involved something she was uncertain about. But Jian didn't even give her a chance to ask questions. What was she avoiding?
And, just from their interactions lately, hadn't the roles of caregiver and the one being cared for suspiciously shifted?
"What are you thinking about so deeply?"
A cheerful greeting interrupted Lin Zhao's contemplation. She looked up to find Constance, who had returned to the office unnoticed, leaning against the doorframe with a roll of fabric in her arms.
"Miss Constance," Lin Zhao stood up, "you're back. Jian mentioned earlier that you had stepped out."
"Yes, I went to the dye workshop to finalize the colors for next season," Constance placed the fabric on the table and sighed. "But you, facing the door, didn't even notice me coming in."
"Just thinking about business matters," Lin Zhao smoothly redirected the conversation to work. "With the change of seasons, the shop must be quite busy, right? Have you considered organizing any events?"
"Events?" Constance raised an eyebrow—the term was new to her.
"Promotional activities," Lin Zhao explained. "For example, placing advertisements in newspapers or hosting a small fashion showcase, inviting only the most influential ladies to set new trends."
"That's a good idea," Constance immediately understood but then shook her head. "But if we promote it and orders flood in, my workshop won't be able to keep up."
"So we shouldn't just target the upper class," Lin Zhao's eyes lit up. When it came to promotion and marketing, she had plenty to say. After all, coming from an era of rapid economic development, her life had been shaped by such matters.
"The broader middle-class women—they also desire beauty and respectability but have limited spending power.
We could launch a ready-to-wear series with elegant designs but simpler materials and craftsmanship, specifically tailored for them. That way, the factory's production capacity could be fully utilized."
Constance pondered quietly for a moment before looking at Lin Zhao with a gleam in her eyes. "It sounds like an ambitious plan, but a very appealing one. You always come up with such novel yet feasible ideas."
"Just some immature thoughts," Lin Zhao said modestly.
After that, the two of them brainstormed several rough directions based on this idea.
As they discussed the next few design drafts, today's meeting came to an end.
At this point, Lin Zhao would usually take her leave promptly, but her thoughts drifted uncontrollably back to the earlier confusion. Realizing that Constance also lived with her niece, she couldn't help but consider seeking advice.
Hesitating for a moment, Lin Zhao asked, "Connie, you and your niece—I mean Eleanor. When you spend time together, do you ever feel that her thoughts are difficult to understand?"
Constance was taken aback for a second, then smiled. "Of course. Girls at this age change their minds every day—happy over a piece of candy one day, sentimental over a fallen leaf the next. Trying to fully understand them? That's far too difficult."
"How do you handle such situations?" Lin Zhao pressed.
"Handle them?" Constance pondered for a moment before offering her insight. "With too much curiosity, they naturally turn to the people they trust most for answers. Today it's me; tomorrow it might be Jane. I generally let her be as she pleases and don’t impose restrictions."
"I see," Lin Zhao nodded.
That made sense. There was nothing time couldn’t resolve.
She had also intended not to interfere too much with Jane’s actions now—
"I don’t want to pry into your affairs with Jane. But I must remind you, she is now an accomplished young lady who frequently attends social gatherings. Perhaps leaving things entirely alone isn’t the best approach," Constance added hesitantly after a pause.
Lin Zhao’s momentarily relaxed mood instantly tensed up again.
Yes, there was one thing at this age that couldn’t be ignored—matters of the heart.
If Jane had developed feelings for someone but didn’t dare to tell her, could that be why she was so attentively caring for her while avoiding any chance to talk?
The more she thought about it, the more unsettling it became. Lin Zhao’s hands trembled slightly.
So, until she confirmed whether this was related, she couldn’t simply let things be.
"I understand. Thank you for your advice. I’ll take my leave now." After bidding Constance a quick farewell, Lin Zhao walked out, but Jane and the others were nowhere to be seen in the shop.
They might have gone home, to a newly opened bar, or to Eleanor’s place. If Jane was avoiding discussing her confusion with Lin Zhao, she might very well confide in Eleanor.
But Lin Zhao knew all too well that she no longer had the time or the right to eavesdrop as she had years ago, nor could she directly question Eleanor about anything.
However, what if the person Jane confided in was someone she could verify things with?
In that instant, Lin Zhao made a decision.
She had to introduce Helen to Jane as soon as possible.
With this decision made, Lin Zhao acted swiftly.
Using the pretext of discussing a charity order with Helen, she suggested meeting at Miss Constance’s dressmaking shop, taking the opportunity to introduce Jane to her as well. Her reasoning was that since both had been taught by Miss Temple, they ought to know each other.
Although Helen hesitated, she eventually agreed.
Thus, on a clear and sunny day a few days later, Lin Zhao brought Jane to the dressmaking shop for this long-awaited meeting.
"Lin, Miss Burns will be here soon, right?"
While waiting, Lin Zhao noticed that Jane seemed somewhat restless. She kept smoothing her skirt and repeatedly confirmed details with Lin Zhao, her green eyes gleaming with an irrepressible brightness.
Just as the appointed time arrived, the shop's wind chimes tinkled crisply. A woman dressed in a simple gray gown entered. She was slender, with a serene face and gentle eyes that seemed to hold compassion and kindness.
"Miss Burns," she first nodded to the visitor, then turned to Jane to introduce them. "This is Miss Jane Eyre. Jane, this is Miss Helen Burns, whom I mentioned to you."
Helen's gaze rested gently on Lin Zhao for a moment before shifting to Jane. She nodded slightly, her smile perfectly measured—calm and soft. "Miss Eyre, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've often heard Mr. Lin speak of you."
Lin Zhao saw Jane's smile freeze, if only for a fleeting moment.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Burns," Jane quickly regained her composure, returning the courtesy with equal grace. Yet her green eyes remained fixed on Helen. After a brief hesitation, she added, "Have we... met somewhere before?"
This reaction was far calmer than when she first met Miss Temple. But Lin Zhao knew it wasn't due to a lack of shock. Rather, as Jane had sensed, their "first meeting" had occurred long before this moment.
"Ah..." Helen's eyes flickered with surprise at Jane's words. She lowered her lashes, lost in thought for a few seconds. When she looked up again, her gaze drifted past Jane and settled on Lin Zhao behind her.
"A year ago, on a street near here," Helen spoke with uncharacteristic speed, her eyes growing increasingly intense as she stared at Lin Zhao. "Miss Eyre, were you walking with Mr. Lin at the time? I remember now! Ah, that's why Mr. Lin seemed so familiar when I saw him at the hospital!"
Lin Zhao's unique attire was something few would forget after seeing it once. As for Helen only now connecting the two events, Lin Zhao couldn't help but reflect inwardly: just as described in the original story, Helen indeed seemed somewhat oblivious to matters outside her immediate focus.
Yet this confirmed chance encounter miraculously dissolved the initial awkwardness between them.
"I never imagined we'd have the chance to meet again," Jane said, the earlier stiffness completely gone from her face. Lin Zhao could hear the genuine enthusiasm in her voice. "I found Miss Burns quite memorable even then."
Helen's demeanor remained far more composed. She smiled gently, her gaze reverent. "I feel that meeting you, Miss Eyre, may be connected to the benevolent Heavenly Father. He brings us together, to meet and to know one another. This is the fate ordained by destiny."
Whether it was related to God or not, it was indeed fate.
Seeing the two conversing happily and Jane's tense shoulders finally relaxing, Lin Zhao felt a wave of relief. She quietly stepped back, moving toward the counter where Constance was working.
Constance was intently folding a piece of brightly colored silk. Hearing Lin Zhao's footsteps, she teased without looking up, "You seem quite dedicated to expanding Jane's social circle. Any stories you'd like to share?"
With Constance, Lin Zhao had few secrets to keep, and at this moment, she truly had much to reflect upon.
"Well, according to what I told Mr. Ai, it was an Ai family benefactor who saved my life, and I'm here to repay the favor." She chuckled lightly, offering a half-truthful explanation.
Constance finally looked up at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I never knew you had such a humorous side—if that's just an excuse—then what's your explanation for me?"
Lin Zhao's gaze drifted to the spot by the window. Jane was leaning in, listening intently to Helen speak, her expression more relaxed and focused than it had been in days. Unconsciously, Lin Zhao softened her own tone.
"I just want her to be happy."
Even though she couldn't see the mysterious friend's expression, Constance could hear the genuine warmth in her words. She couldn't help but sigh. "A beautiful wish—that's a sincere enough reason."
"Oh? Was the previous reason not sincere enough?" Lin Zhao blinked, unusually playful. "Or do you think I'm an insincere person?"
After she spoke, Constance fell into an odd silence for a moment.
"Goodness," she suddenly said, her tone strange. "If I didn't know the truth beneath that outfit of yours, I'd almost suspect you were flirting with me."
Through the mask, Lin Zhao met Constance's eyes, also caught off guard by the sudden remark. Her hand rested on the table, her fingertips unconsciously brushing against the fabric. She struggled for words, unable to speak for a long moment.
"Hahaha!" Seeing her like this, Constance's eyes crinkled, and she burst into cheerful laughter. She even couldn't resist reaching out to pat Lin Zhao's shoulder. "Alright, alright, it was just a joke!"
"...Really?" The fluster in Lin Zhao's heart wasn't so easily soothed. She pressed seriously, "But are you saying that, regardless of gender, the way I spoke just now could easily be misunderstood?"
After all, English wasn't her native language—expressing emotions with the right words was always a challenge. Over the years, she'd had plenty of conversations to make a living, but she couldn't help wondering if Constance's reaction was a common one.
Constance was nearly doubled over with laughter.
"You're usually so cautious—why can't you tell what's real and what's a joke now? Don't worry, as long as you don't chat like this with others often."
Lin Zhao thought for a moment. She was certain she didn't chat with others much.
Feeling slightly reassured, her mind took a turn, thinking about the exception to "not much."
Jane.
But... given their genders and the years they'd spent together, surely there couldn't be such a misunderstanding, right?
She relaxed completely, unaware of the complex look in Jane's eyes from across the room, drawn by Constance's laughter.
Author's Note: 300,000 words—I can't help but ramble a bit (it's long, so feel free to skip if you're not interested).
Unknowingly, it's been almost three months since I started writing this.
Originally, I only planned to write 200,000 words, but it just kept growing. Now, the plan is to finish at 400,000 (though it might go over).
After finishing the contract novel, I originally planned to write another one, but the idea for this story suddenly came to me.
[I love Jane Eyre so much—I really wanted to give Jane a different life.]
Of course, this is not a denial of the original story of Jian, as the foundation for our reflection and creative adaptations is precisely the original work!
It's just that I look forward to another possibility...
And, admittedly, there's a personal desire to see the girls getting close.
I originally intended to focus more on the romantic storyline, but once I started writing, I couldn't help but delve into Jian's growth—how she steadily moves toward happiness (getting off-topic here).
Jian's transformation should be quite evident across these 300,000 words (right?). It's really time to start writing about the love part.
At first, I just wanted to write one line:
"Jian, love comes in many forms."
Yes, love comes in many forms, and as long as the one you choose leads you to happiness, that's perfectly fine!
Also, I must express my gratitude to everyone who has been following along TT.
There are far more readers than I ever imagined. I originally thought the subject matter might be too niche or my writing too poor to attract any attention.
Lately, I've been incredibly busy, and my writing might have become a bit rushed. Even though I've been away for years, I've never once considered giving up on this book!
Thank you all again for reading. Every click, bookmark, comment, encouragement, and support has given me the motivation to keep going TT.
I will finish this book properly! I want to complete the story of Little Jian and Little Lin!
So, let's walk toward the end of the story together, just as we turned the first page together.
-
P.S. I've commissioned a new cover—eagerly waiting for it…
Lin Zhao and Constance’s lighthearted conversation continued. By the window, Jane withdrew that complicated gaze and turned her attention back to Helen Burns before her.
“Miss Burns,” her voice was so calm it betrayed not a ripple of emotion, “I heard you previously attended Lowood.”
Helen gave a slight nod. “Yes. Are you interested in the place, Miss Eyre?”
“Somewhat.” A proper smile graced Jane’s face, but the probing light in her eyes was impossible to conceal. “Could you tell me what kind of school it was?”
She leaned forward slightly, adding in a near-whisper, a voice meant only for the two of them:
“I suspect the place I’ve dreamt of countless times might just be Lowood—”
Lowood, Whirlwood, the school, the students, and before that, the childlike life of reading behind the curtains at Gateshead.
Had it really been seven years already?
Sitting at the desk, Lin Zhao couldn’t help but feel a sense of unreality as she opened Jane Eyre once more.
This book, this story she had reread at least once a year, had become, since coming here, a marker belonging to the original world. Perhaps afraid of confronting her present reality, she had avoided opening this book unless absolutely necessary.
And life and the story had diverged completely five years ago, so she hadn’t examined its contents in detail since.
However, after Jane and Helen became acquainted, Jane had indeed curbed the subtle demeanor of the previous period and resumed her busy schedule of working late. From Helen, Lin Zhao learned that Jane had only asked some questions about Lowood.
Unrelated to the worrisome scenarios she had imagined, Lin Zhao relaxed, attributing Jane’s sudden closeness to a passing whim. Still, seeing their relationship grow closer, she felt the urge to reread their original fates.
No matter how many times she read the descriptions of Lowood, she couldn’t help but frown. Her fingertip paused on the page, her thoughts lost among the lines.
Before starting middle school, hearing it was a boarding school, she had even looked forward to meeting her own Helen.
“What? Unhappy that Helen is me?”
Again, the voice arrived before the person. Lin Zhao turned her head to see the eleven-year-old girl peeking out from beside the desk.
She let out a soft, sighing laugh, closed the book, and let her gaze trace over this long-unseen appearance. Unlike the older faces, this was a stage that could recall too many memories.
The Jane who conversed with her under moonlight, the Jane who watched snow with her at Whirlwood, the Jane whose eyes shone when talking about the future, the Jane who would feel sad over conflicts with friends—the Jane who became completely different because of her presence.
She knew perfectly well that those memories had nothing to do with the person before her now.
“What exactly are you?” Lin Zhao couldn’t help but murmur.
“Jane” blinked, her green eyes curving but devoid of mirth. “Starting to dislike me appearing with this appearance that shares memories with you?”
Lin Zhao fell silent. She realized the other had once again seen into her heart before she did, perceiving the discomfort beneath that awkwardness.
Was this really okay? Even though the other was a phantom that had accompanied her for years.
“You are standing at the boundary of fate now, Lin Zhao.” The girl resumed the innocent expression befitting her appearance. “I have always accepted any choice you make. As long as you are prepared, just like back then—”
Back then.
Lin Zhao realized this was a secret only they were privy to.
And it had been far too long since she had revisited her own life—the real, human past that belonged to her.
The moment this awareness dawned, her mind grew uncharacteristically heavy. Unable to control her body, Lin Zhao slowly leaned against the desk. Before her eyes closed completely, she saw the girl’s smile fade.
"Jane" simply looked at her with deep sorrow.
"Lin?"
By the time she had sorted out all the orders for the current quarter and returned home, the sky had already darkened. Jane entered the house but did not see the familiar glow of lights. Worried, she called out softly and began searching for traces of the other person in the house.
As she went upstairs, she noticed the light in the study was still on.
Still busy with work? She softened her footsteps and peered inside, only to find Lin Zhao’s head buried in the desk, seemingly asleep.
!
Jane moved her to the bed, then quickly finished her own bath and slipped under the covers.
She had drunk quite a bit at the banquet earlier and still felt a little lightheaded. But she wasn’t as utterly disoriented as she had been during the celebration feast at Grapevine Manor.
After helping Lin Zhao remove her outer coat, Jane noticed that the inner garment she wore was still the same one she had brought with her. Now lying on her side, the collar revealed a large, empty expanse.
This scene, which had appeared in her dreams, made Jane’s cheeks flush with warmth.
"What are you thinking of doing to someone who’s asleep!" Jane scolded herself inwardly, but her body moved closer, betraying her thoughts.
She leaned close to Lin Zhao’s chest, listening to the slow, heavy rhythm of her heartbeat.
Lin Zhao truly wasn’t an ordinary ghost, was she?
The warmth on her face gradually cooled as Jane lowered her gaze, recalling her conversation with Helen.
Helen gave her the same feeling as Miss Temple. Though their personalities weren’t similar, Jane felt an instant familiarity, as if they were old friends reunited after a long separation. During their conversation, her heart ached with a bittersweet ache, and she nearly shed tears.
What had started as a conversation with a purpose had deepened to the point where she could hardly recall the initial wariness she had felt.
Helen was truly a friend worth knowing.
And Lowood was indeed the school from her dreams.
Jane reached out to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen over Lin Zhao’s eyes, gazing deeply at her sleeping face.
If those dreams without Lin Zhao were her original life, then Lin Zhao must have known this all along, right?
The sense of incongruity she had always felt in Lin Zhao’s demeanor finally had a reasonable explanation. Though it seemed unbelievable, a little reflection made it clear that her familiarity was indeed traceable.
Lin Zhao had been decisive about changing schools, she was intimately familiar with the existence of her uncle, and she could even confidently tell Jane that there were more relatives, as well as caution her against "old men." Yet, in matters outside these pivotal moments, she seemed just as uncertain as Jane herself.
But despite that uncertainty, Lin Zhao had still stayed by her side, handling everything with grace.
Now, looking back to the very beginning, Lin Zhao’s explanation of the "fairy godmother" came to mind: "A being specifically here to help you overcome difficulties and make you happy."
That truly was specific.
Jane chuckled softly, the bittersweet feeling rising in her heart no less than when she had spoken with Helen and Miss Temple. She reached out and gently wrapped her arms around Lin Zhao’s waist, burying herself completely in the other’s embrace.
Should she be afraid? To think that her entire life had been laid bare before another person, and completely altered.
As always, when they embraced and drifted off to sleep, Jian had only one thought in her mind.
"Thank goodness you're here."
She closed her eyes, letting sleepiness wash over her like a damp tide.
Her consciousness sank into a warm haze, and when her vision cleared again, she found herself standing in a completely unfamiliar place.
It wasn't the eerie school, nor the opulent mansion. This place was noisy, crowded, filled with the aroma of food and the clamor of voices. The light was somewhat harsh, the air stuffy, and people wore strange yet lightweight clothing, their faces glowing with a kind of vibrant, relaxed expression she had never seen before.
This was a dream about Lin Zhao.
Without needing to think, Jian understood the situation and felt her spirits lift as she looked around.
Unlike the passive observation of the past, a strong impulse—a mix of curiosity and determination—gripped her.
Lin Zhao knew everything about her, yet she knew almost nothing about Lin Zhao's world. This time, she wanted to see, to listen, to etch everything here into her heart.
But after searching for a while, she realized something unusual about this dream. Everywhere she looked, there were only unfamiliar streets and crowds, but Lin Zhao was nowhere to be seen.
She tentatively began to walk.
The surroundings were bizarre and dazzling: shops with signs in blocky characters, and metal carriages gliding smoothly along the streets without horses... Everything was so novel it was almost overwhelming.
Just as she was about to lose her bearings, a loud greeting caught her attention.
"What'd you say? Speak up, girl! The kitchen's stir-frying back there!"
Jian's gaze was drawn to a small shop with its doors wide open. Steam billowed from the entrance in thick white clouds, blurring the scene inside. A slender girl with a ponytail stood awkwardly before a tall wooden counter.
It was Lin Zhao.
Jian's heart leaped. The Lin Zhao before her looked much younger, with a trace of lingering childishness between her brows. Her eyes were filled with a guarded, distant wariness that seemed out of place in the bustling surroundings.
"...Part-time job," Lin Zhao uttered a phrase Jian didn't understand, her voice so low it was almost drowned out by the clamor.
From behind the counter, a plump middle-aged woman in an apron poked her head out. Her voice was booming, her smile as generous as the sunlight here. Lin Zhao seemed startled by the sudden warmth, clutching the hem of her clothes as she repeated the unfamiliar phrase.
"I want to apply for a part-time job."
"Oh—hiring!" The woman suddenly understood. She briskly wiped her hands, came out from behind the counter, and unabashedly sized Lin Zhao up and down. "You look like a student, don't you? Here to earn tuition? Where's your home?"
"...Far away," Lin Zhao's gaze drifted to the ground, avoiding the woman's overly direct stare.
"How far is far?" The woman chuckled, pressing further.
Lin Zhao mentioned a large number, followed by a word for distance Jian had never heard before: "...Over three thousand kilometers."
"Oh my goodness!" the woman exclaimed dramatically, her voice rising an octave and drawing curious glances from several nearby tables. "That's a heck of a long way! You little thing, you've got guts, coming here all by yourself? Your family must be worried sick!"
Jian saw Lin Zhao's shoulders tremble almost imperceptibly, her face growing even paler.
Her hand failed to withdraw, instead passing straight through Lin Zhao’s clothing.
She couldn’t touch her.
“She means no harm.” The girl’s voice was soft, yet it clearly reached Jian’s ears. “Lin Zhao, take a deep breath. Coming here was your own decision, wasn’t it?”
Jian stood beside them, withdrawing her hand as she stared blankly at the scene before her.
“Look at her. Answer her.” The girl tugged gently at Lin Zhao’s sleeve again, her face displaying a calmness far beyond her years. “You didn’t come here to run away. You’ve already taken that first step to leave. What else can’t you do?”
The young Lin Zhao’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. After two long, deep breaths, she raised her head.
“I’m an adult now. I can work.” Her voice still carried a faint, almost imperceptible rasp, but her words were unusually clear.
The woman was momentarily stunned by this sudden change.
But Lin Zhao didn’t stop. Meeting the other’s astonished gaze, she pressed on: “Excuse me… are you still hiring here?”
After a brief silence, a brighter smile bloomed on the woman’s face. She slapped her thigh. “Hey! You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Hiring! Of course we’re hiring! We’re just short of someone quick and handy! Wait here, I’ll get you a form to fill out!”
With that, she bustled back to the counter.
Jian saw Lin Zhao secretly reach back and briefly touch the hand of that “other self,” her own confusion deepening.
Before she could even begin to process what was happening, the world began to collapse, surging toward her from all directions. Heat, noise, and light were mashed together, like paint washed away by water, rapidly fading and distorting.
“No, don’t end here! There’s still so much I need to understand!” Jian instinctively cried out within the torrent of her consciousness.
Perhaps her feelings were finally answered, for the soul-rending sensation of collapse miraculously halted. The chaotic colors and sounds slowly settled. Finally, a cold, snow-laden silence replaced everything.
Jian opened her eyes again. An unfamiliar scene still lay before her. But this time, the air no longer carried the aroma of food. Instead, it was filled with the biting chill of winter. A fine snow drifted from the sky, casting a quiet, grayish-white hue over the entire world.
Lin Zhao and another person were walking ahead of her. Lin Zhao seemed a bit taller now, bundled in a thick, dark coat that made her appear even more slender. She walked with her head down, her exhaled breath forming white puffs that quickly vanished in the wind and snow.
Jian instinctively quickened her pace to follow, her gaze falling on the face of the person accompanying Lin Zhao—not unfamiliar, it was still herself—only this time, “Jian” appeared to be around nineteen or twenty years old.
“There are far fewer people on the streets,” “Jian’s” voice was especially clear in the stillness. “It seems like everyone has gone home for the New Year.”
Lin Zhao didn’t answer immediately. She walked on in silence, snow settling in a thin layer on her hair and shoulders. After a long while, she let out a soft laugh tinged with weariness.
“Perhaps,” her voice was low, almost as if speaking to herself. “Having a home to return to… that must be a good thing, right? I wonder if I’ll ever have that chance in this lifetime.”
Home.
"Yes, we have a home. You said it yourself." Jane couldn't help but step in front of them, trying to catch Lin Zhao's attention.
But Lin Zhao couldn't hear her—her words were drowned out by another version of herself.
"There will definitely be one. Maybe in another six months, you'll receive a letter from a wealthy uncle too? By then, you won't have to go out to work in the snow just to survive."
Lin Zhao stared at "Jane," her eyes filled with disbelief. She was so shocked by the words that the slight frown on her brow softened. "...Better not. Even you yourself didn'ttreat that kind of hope as motivation to keep going, did you?"
"Jane" smiled, her eyes crinkling.
"That's right. So, just grit your teeth and keep going, like I did?"
Amid the falling snow, both of their expressions relaxed as they walked straight through Jane.
The sensation of being passed through wasn't unfamiliar, but this time, the icy emptiness seemed to explode from the depths of her soul. She reached out, trying in vain to grasp something, but her fingertips only brushed against the cold wind carrying snowflakes.
"Lin..."
The figure she was chasing disappeared around the street corner. Jane murmured, her heart losing the courage to truly hold onto the other.
Don't. Don't leave me behind.
Didn't you... come for me?
The girl walking beside Lin Zhao, even with the same face, was clearly not herself, Jane knew. Recalling the dreams she'd had before, it seemed she had always been by Lin Zhao's side, witnessing how she grew, why she felt joy or sorrow.
Why did Lin Zhao only open her heart to "herself" in dreams?
Everything she had seen and heard now pointed to an unavoidable answer—
Because that person wasn't her at all, but another "Jane" who had offered real and lasting companionship.
Have I always just been her shadow? Is that why you've been so kind to me?
When you look at me, when you call out "Jane," are you actually thinking of her?
Is this the truth? Lin Zhao wouldn't stay for her, because she hadn't come for her.
The scenes in the dream shouldn't have stirred any feelings in her, yet she felt as if the wind had cut her deeply. Unable to stand any longer, she knelt in the swirling snow. Her entire body trembled—it hurt so much, she felt so sad, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't open her eyes, her senses lost in a vast expanse of white.
"Didn't you promise to make me happy?"
She forced the broken question from the depths of her throat, her voice so faint even she could barely hear it.
The world seemed to stand still for her.
In this dead, silent, pure white despair, Jane Eyre, for the first time in her life, clearly recognized this emotion—one powerful enough to burn her soul to ashes.
She had never feared Lin Zhao's cheerful conversations with Miss Constance, nor had she ever cared about the admiration and closeness from the outside world that surrounded Lin Zhao.
Because she firmly believed she was different, unique.
Lin Zhao had come for her. Only she could see all of her. What she had initially seen as a curse and later as a blessing was precisely this special connection.
But now, this dream had told her in the cruelest way possible that the uniqueness she took pride in had never been exclusive.
Lin Zhao had already met another Jane. That Jane had guided her to this day, to her side.
If she had fallen in love with the Lin Zhao who had accompanied her like this, what about Lin Zhao?
Would Lin Zhao, like her, have fallen in love with that person?
Jealousy.
So jealous.
Jealousy choked her breath, making it almost impossible to breathe.
"Jian!"
Just then, a voice pierced the silent, empty world, landing directly in Jian's ears.
How familiar that voice was—her body reacted even before her mind could. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, but in the darkness, something blurred her vision.
Soft skin pressed against her eyes, accompanied by a tone of worried concern.
"Did you have a nightmare? Why are you crying like this?"
Wet and cool, her senses were gently awakened by the wiping, gradually spreading throughout her body. She finally regained her sight and saw Lin Zhao, who was right in front of her.
She had woken from the dream.
Instinctively, Jian reached out and grabbed that hand.
How strange—in her memory, Lin Zhao was much taller than her, but the wrist she now held in her palm was so slender, as if she couldn’t break free unless Jian let go.
She looked up, carefully scanning the other’s eyes and brows.
The eyebrows were cleanly shaped, with a gentle curve—not particularly high but perfectly complementing those eyes. The eyelids had shallow folds, and the eyelashes were long and thick. Beneath them were pure black eyes, the pupils so deep they seemed bottomless.
Her gaze drifted downward—a straight nose bridge, a small tip, with clean, sharp lines from the side. The lips were clearly defined, the shape of the cupid’s bow distinct, though the color was pale, almost bloodless. Further down was a sharp, well-defined jawline, tapering into a chin that wasn’t too pointed.
A few strands of black hair fell across her forehead and cheeks, making her skin appear even paler.
This was Lin Zhao—the Lin Zhao she knew, with a face that had remained cool and detached for years.
So beautiful.
She stared, mesmerized, unwilling to let go, pulling Lin Zhao’s hand toward that face.
Lin Zhao didn’t resist, allowing her to move it as usual, though she couldn’t help but worry about Jian’s dazed expression and spoke up to confirm.
"Jian? Did you come back drunk?"
These words finally reached Jian’s ears.
"...Mm. I drank."
Jian replied softly, her fingers already touching Lin Zhao’s lips.
Soft—just like Lin Zhao’s palms, her gaze, her words.
This was a quality entirely different from the vibrant, sharp, brooding Lin Zhao she yearned for.
Perhaps there was nothing wrong with a soft Lin Zhao. It was precisely because of this softness that she so openly accepted Jian.
...But it still hurt so much. So much. You had others after all. That was a world I could never reach.
The heavy, suffocating sadness in her heart didn’t stop just because her tears were wiped away. Her vision blurred again. Jian felt the hand in her grasp slip away, gently breaking free from her hold, only to return and wipe her eyes again.
"Are you feeling unwell? Let me make you some tea." Lin Zhao, moved by her emotions, asked softly. Her lips parted as she spoke, brought closer by her lowered head, almost filling Jian’s field of vision.
There were no clouds tonight. The moonlight, soft and gentle, spilled into the room, casting a hazy glow over them.
Lin Zhao leaned in so close that Jian could almost see her own reflection in those worried eyes—the face that was now scrunched up, looking pitiful.
It wasn’t a very flattering expression. No matter how many years passed, her appearance would never give off a delicate, fragile, pitiable feeling.
Jian’s fingertips trembled slightly, pressing harder against her lips.
"Lin." She stared at the corner of her mouth and called her name softly. "You have to make me happy. You promised."
The pressed lips tightened ever so slightly.
When she opened her eyes again, the room was already bathed in bright daylight.
Jian blinked several times, trying to suppress the uncomfortable soreness in her eyes.
She had cried far too hard last night. After that overstepping act, she had clung to Lin Zhao, weeping quietly for a long time in the prolonged silence where neither spoke. At some point, she had lost consciousness again.
Remembering last night, she instinctively reached out to the side of the bed. Her hand met empty space.
The palm of her hand touched only cold sheets, as if no one had slept there all night.
"Lin...?"
She called out softly, her voice hoarse. There was no response.
It wasn’t uncommon for Lin Zhao to have already left when she woke up, but after what had happened last night, Jian couldn’t help but suspect another possibility—Lin Zhao was angry. Disappointed by her inexplicable behavior, she had left without a word.
This thought struck her like a thunderbolt. Jian bolted upright from the bed, not even bothering to put on her shoes, and rushed barefoot out of the bedroom. The cold wooden floor stung the soles of her feet, but she paid it no mind. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, almost leaping out of her throat.
"Lin!"
She dashed into the study—empty. Documents were neatly arranged on the desk, and the chair had been pushed back properly.
She raced down the stairs. The living room was deserted. The fire in the fireplace had long since gone out, leaving only a pile of pale gray ashes. The kitchen, the dining room... every room was eerily quiet. The entire house felt like a vast, empty prison.
There was no sign of Lin Zhao anywhere, nor the usual note she would leave when she left early.
The snow from her dream began to fall again in her mind—the retreating figure walking side by side with "the other Jian," overlapping with the empty house before her.
"..." Her nose stung, and the tears she thought had dried up last night welled up again, burning hot.
No, don’t leave me—
A soft click echoed clearly—the sound of a door lock turning.
Jian jerked her head up. Through her tear-blurred vision, she saw the door being pushed open from the outside. Lin Zhao walked in, carrying the chill of the early morning and a stack of documents in her hand. She casually removed her mask, revealing a pair of tired eyes beneath.
"Jian?" She paused at the sight of Jian standing at the foot of the stairs, then quickly approached. "What’s wrong? You’re not even wearing shoes. The floor is so cold."
"Where did you go?" Jian didn’t answer the question, instead grabbing the hem of Lin Zhao’s clothes with tear-filled eyes. "You didn’t leave a note. I thought... I thought you had left me..."
Lin Zhao’s gaze swept over her face, and she sighed softly, reaching out to wipe away Jian’s tears. "Your eyes are all swollen from crying." After gently rubbing the area under Jian’s eyes, she led the sobbing girl to sit in the living room, making sure to lift her bare feet onto the sofa.
"I fell asleep too early last night, and there were still some matters at the factory that needed handling, so I went to take care of them. I didn’t think it would take long, so I didn’t leave a note." She explained everything Jian was worried about in a calm, steady tone.
Jian clung tightly to Lin Zhao’s hand, unwilling to let go. Hearing this, she glanced at the dark circles under Lin Zhao’s eyes, and her heart ached again.
"I’m sorry, Lin..."
"Sorry for what?"
"For last night... I kept you from sleeping well."
Lin Zhao’s expression shifted slightly. Jian saw a flicker of discomfort in her eyes, but it vanished in an instant, replaced by gentle concern.
"It's hard to control oneself when drunk." She paused. "I heard from Miss Constance that your business is gaining quite a reputation. Perhaps you won't need to attend so many parties from now on?"
Using drunkenness as an excuse was indeed easier than revealing the real reason. Hesitating over whether to correct this point, Jane's gaze drifted from beneath Lin Zhao's eyes to her lips. Her breath caught, and she missed the chance to speak.
Lin Zhao lowered her eyes and added softly, "Jane, there will come a day when I can no longer stay by your side."
Jane felt her heart stop. Her eyes widened, her grip on Lin Zhao's hand tightened, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably. "Wait, Lin..."
"We agreed on this long ago. You should remember. On the day you find happiness, I will return home." Unaffected by Jane's protest, Lin Zhao shook her head and continued, "But I know you can take care of yourself."
The sadness in Jane's heart grew heavier, and tears began to fall once more. Unable to hold back, she cried out, "Why... why are you saying this so suddenly? Is it because of last night—"
Her words were abruptly cut off as Lin Zhao raised her other hand and gently covered Jane's eyes.
"Jane, don't cry anymore." Her voice was even softer than her touch, as if a breeze could scatter her words. "What if you really hurt your eyes from crying?"
"I should be the one apologizing. I am not worth your tears."
Ah...
Jane relaxed, resting her eyes in Lin Zhao's palm, seeing nothing. In the gentle darkness, she suddenly understood why Lin Zhao had spoken this way.
Lin Zhao did not want her to bring up last night again.
She had suppressed her own overstepping actions, emphasized the future, and drawn a clear, unmistakable boundary.
Beneath the straightforward yet pointed words was a warning, much like her previous attempts to change the subject—you cannot come any closer, Jane.
If this conversation had taken place a few days earlier, Jane might have been even more heartbroken. Heartbroken that Lin Zhao was like a ghost, heartbroken that there was a divide between the living and the dead. She would have obediently stepped back, waiting for the next opportunity to draw near.
But last night, she had already shed too many tears over what she had seen in her dreams.
She had learned, in pain and despair, the answer to the question she had been so curious about.
Why can't you be more honest with me?
Because that place already belongs to someone else.
A surge of anger and resentment, stronger than sorrow, rose in her heart.
"Jane," Jane murmured.
"What?" Lin Zhao's voice sounded in the darkness, tinged with confusion.
"I like it when you call my name, Lin." Jane curved her lips into a smile, though her tone held no trace of warmth. "Call me more often. I will do everything perfectly. That way, you can return home sooner."
"..." The only response was Lin Zhao's slightly quickened breath.
Pulling the hand away from her eyes, Jane's expression now showed none of the earlier emotions. She smiled, her swollen eyes curving in a somewhat eerie manner. "Speaking of work, I was just about to discuss it with you."
Lin Zhao was taken aback by this sudden shift.
Jane gave her no time to react and continued, "The custom liquor business is now on track, and Eleanor can handle it perfectly well on her own. I think," she paused, enunciating each word clearly, "it's about time I officially take part in the factory's affairs, don't you agree?"
The conversation thus shifted to business matters. Jane keenly observed Lin Zhao's relaxed demeanor, allowing the other to retreat to the safety zone she had decided upon.
Among the factories that had sprung up like mushrooms after rain in London, the one leased by Mr. Gianetti was initially unremarkable. Until one day, partners who came to discuss business entered the office and were startled to find that the person in charge had transformed into a sharp-eyed young lady.
The name of Miss Jane Eyre, after a two-year absence, once again stirred waves in London's public sphere.
The war Jane initiated unfolded at an astonishing pace. It seemed she harbored an unspent energy, pouring everything she had into the factory, determined to achieve something remarkable.
At first, a young lady taking charge of a factory naturally attracted a fair share of gossip, but Jane paid it no mind. Her methods were far more resolute and intelligent than mere rumors.
She significantly improved the welfare and wages of the female workers, swiftly winning the support within the factory through tangible benefits, turning it into her most solid fortress.
This time, however, Lin Zhao did not retreat behind the scenes as she had in Funchal after Jane took over.
On the contrary, they were almost constantly on the move together. After familiarizing themselves with London's trade, they brought the business of the Enet Trading Company here as well. For the company's orders and the factory's expansion, they appeared together at the exchange, negotiated with suppliers side by side, and pored over accounts late into the night under the lamplight in the study.
In the eyes of others, Mr. Lin and Miss Jane Eyre formed an inseparable picture.
New rumors quietly emerged as well. As time passed, people no longer debated why a woman was managing a factory but began to speculate with keen interest about the nature of the intimate relationship between the mysterious male intelligence agent and the young businesswoman.
For Jane, these rumors were a secret, addictive victory.
Every time others mentioned her alongside Mr. Lin, it felt like a public declaration of her ownership, offering her a moment of respite from the devastating jealousy born of her dreams.
She grew increasingly adept and composed. Until one afternoon, Eleanor sought her out with a concerned expression.
"Joan," Eleanor closed the office door, her tone unusually solemn, "there have been too many rumors about you and Mr. Lin at recent gatherings, and they're spreading... in rather unpleasant ways. Do you need me to help clarify things?"
Jane was looking down at a fabric order. Hearing this, she raised her head, her face showing no trace of offended anger but instead an inscrutable, faint smile. She asked with interest, "Really? What are they saying?"
Eleanor hesitantly recounted several versions, ranging from "lovers" to "being kept by a wealthy, mysterious businessman," all filled with malice and imagination.
After listening, Jane actually laughed—a light, brisk laugh, yet devoid of warmth.
"No need to pay them any mind, Lena," she set the order aside, offering reassurance to her friend's concern. "Let them talk. It might even save us a lot of trouble."
Seeing Jane's indifference, Eleanor did not press further. She knew her friend was far stronger than she appeared.
She nodded, then shifted to the main topic. "Since you put it that way, there is indeed a work-related matter I need your opinion on."
After shifting her focus to the factory, Jane had already delegated most of the custom wine business affairs to Eleanor. Hearing her speak so seriously now, Jane couldn’t help but adopt a more earnest attitude.
"What’s the matter?"
"Joan, Betty approached me yesterday, hoping to join the wine club..." Eleanor lowered her gaze, tossing the topic over. "I thought this shouldn’t be decided by me alone."
Jane immediately grasped the key point and confirmed, "She didn’t say anything strange to you, did she?"
Eleanor shook her head.
"...She didn’t say much at all."
As expected. From that deliberately calm tone, Jane easily detected the hidden disappointment.
She had nothing left to say to Beatrice and no longer considered her a friend. But she wouldn’t let personal feelings influence her judgment on this matter—especially since the other party was clearly targeting Eleanor.
Even if goodwill was subjective, Beatrice wouldn’t do anything inappropriate to Eleanor.
Jane glanced at Eleanor’s tense lips, silently assessing:
Perhaps they needed a non-social setting to interact. Whether their past friendship had faded with time was something only they could decide.
"I have no objections. You’re in charge of the wine club now, so handle it as you see fit, Lena."
After discussing the visiting matters, Eleanor didn’t linger. She exchanged a few more words before leaving.
The quiet solitude didn’t last long before the door was knocked on again.
Without looking up, Jane called out, "Come in," and continued handling the documents in front of her. She heard the door open, close, and footsteps stopping before her desk. But the expected report never came—only a silent, almost weighty gaze.
She looked up to see a familiar mask.
"It’s rare to see Eleanor coming to the factory to find you." Lin Zhao’s expression was hidden beneath her disguise, but her words carried a strong sense of concern. "Is there something urgent to deal with?"
Jane set down her pen, leaned back in her chair, and wore the flawless, faint smile Lin Zhao had grown familiar with lately.
"Nothing major," she said lightly. "Lena heard some rumors about me and ‘Mr. Lint’ and came to check on me."
"Rumors?" Lin Zhao repeated softly. Then she took a step forward, her tone as serious as Jane had anticipated. "Ignoring them only makes them spread further. Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of it?"
Indeed, as an information broker, Lin Zhao had long been aware of the rumors about them. But when she first asked Jane’s opinion, the response had been to let them be.
"Take care of it? And then what?" Jane countered, her green eyes looking up at her, the corners curving into a sly arc. "So I can continue dealing with those suitors who flock to me at banquets?"
Her tone was light, but it made Lin Zhao stiffen slightly.
In an instant, Lin Zhao’s mind flashed with scenes from the past few months:
A young woman nearing eighteen, elegant and poised, her refined upbringing evident in every gesture, yet made all the more captivating by those bright eyes.
Even after half a year of whispers about her identity and unconventional ways, her radiance remained undiminished. If anything, it only made the self-proclaimed gentlemen of London admire her unwavering allure all the more.
Occasionally, men would approach with drinks in hand, only to be deftly dismissed by Jane with a smile that concealed a blade.
Lin Zhao had witnessed it all, night after night, as Jane’s dance partner.
“Rather than weaving a different story with every gentleman I’ve met in London,” Jane’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts, “isn’t it simpler to have just one consistent rumor with ‘Mr. Lint’?”
Lin Zhao fell silent. She couldn’t argue. Behind this twisted logic lay the brutal, unavoidable reality of their time.
“Besides, what does it matter?” Jane straightened slightly, reaching out to gently cover Lin Zhao’s hand, which was pressed tightly against the tabletop.
Her fingertips traced faint circles on the back of Lin Zhao’s hand, her voice softening to a whisper, like a lover’s murmur. “…Or has some young lady recently extended an olive branch to you?”
“…Jane, you know that’s impossible,” Lin Zhao sighed softly.
“Is it?” Jane withdrew her hand, the gentle, probing touch now seeming like nothing more than an illusion.
“What do I know?” she asked lightly, her tone innocent to the point of cruelty. “All I know is that you once said you’d return home once I found happiness.”
Author’s Note: Pet Theater
When a puppy feels uneasy, it can take two forms—a tearful, clingy state, afraid of being left behind, or a hyper-vigilant state, sticking close to its owner. For the puppy’s mental well-being, please make sure to provide plenty of reassurance!
Lin: Noted. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get a dog. (Takes notes)
Jane: No other dogs allowed!
Lin: ?
The above dog-related content is purely fictional, crafted to playfully explore the dynamics of their relationship. (Gets hit)