Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C53

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Chapter 53: Graduation Photo

“That’s the one.” Mr. Hu, worried the other party wouldn’t believe him, even pulled up the children’s song Baby Washes Hands on his phone.

There was a slight difference in how Bashu High School and No. 8 Middle School defined “talent scholarships.”

It made sense, too — after all, “during the student’s time at the school” meant the student had been nurtured by the school itself!

Mr. Hu continued, “Gu Lu has real talent in writing. If he can win another competition during his time at our school, securing a talent scholarship would be straightforward.”

“Talent?” Mr. Li chimed in. “Why don’t we talk about achievements? Gu Lu is already a contracted writer with Young Literature. That counts, right?”

Of course, Gu Lu hadn’t hidden this from his teacher. Mr. Li knew well that in negotiations, you had to show your value upfront — no need to downplay strengths.

“Hmm?”

Two skeptical sounds echoed in the room. One came from Mr. Hu of No. 8 Middle School’s admissions office; the other from Principal Chang. Both wore puzzled expressions.

Principal Chang’s look said: Hey, don’t make things up just for the scholarship money… Wait, if it’s Gu Lu, maybe it’s true…

Mr. Hu’s eyes were saying: What the heck just happened? Spill the beans already!

“Gu Lu, why don’t you explain it yourself?” Mr. Li said cautiously. He didn’t want to risk misstating anything.

“A little over a month ago,” Gu Lu began calmly, “I submitted a piece to Young Literature. Their editorial team liked it enough to offer me a contract as a signed author.”

“I didn’t accept immediately because I didn’t have the right work at the time,” Gu Lu added. “But lately, I’ve found something fitting, so the signing process is moving forward.”

This calm, almost indifferent tone — impressive, Mr. Hu thought, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied Gu Lu again.

Another surprise!

The kid was even more remarkable than expected.

Though, to be fair, Mr. Hu’s eyes were naturally small, so when he squinted, they nearly disappeared completely.

While Young Literature might not carry the same prestige as Harvest or October, getting a student published in any literary magazine — especially one focused on youth literature — was quite an achievement at Gu Lu’s age.

Mr. Hu didn’t doubt the truth of it. After all, Mr. Li was a teacher and an adult — he wouldn’t be making such claims without reason.

“In that case,” Mr. Hu said, “there won’t be any problem applying for the talent scholarship. If Gu Lu decides to join our high school, I’m sure he’ll achieve even greater success in literary creation.”

“So what’s the amount of the talent scholarship?” Mr. Li asked. These weren’t questions a student could comfortably ask.

“It’s three thousand yuan, full.” Mr. Hu replied.

Three thousand wasn’t bad — roughly equivalent to Bashu High School’s scholarship package. Mr. Li nodded approvingly.

He discreetly nudged Gu Lu under the table where no one could see.

“I’ll think it over carefully and get back to you,” Gu Lu said politely. “After all, choosing a school is a big decision.”

“Of course,” Mr. Hu replied. “Feel free to reach out anytime if you have questions.”

And with that, the meeting wrapped up. Mr. Hu came quickly and left just as swiftly.

Once outside, Mr. Li told Gu Lu they could share No. 8 Middle School’s offer with Bashu High School to see if they’d match or even raise the amount.

Before they could discuss further, however, Principal Chang eagerly cut in, eager to hear the details about the Young Literature contract.

“You should've mentioned this earlier!” Principal Chang sighed dramatically.

If he hadn’t had afternoon meetings, he probably would’ve dragged Gu Lu into a longer chat.

Dr. Li had stolen half a day of peace, and Class Five also managed to snatch a moment of respite from their intense exam prep. It was time for graduation photos — and for parents to join in for some keepsake snapshots (which, naturally, came at a small fee).

Attendance wasn’t mandatory for parents, but most took the day off anyway — three years of schooling deserved a couple of photos with their kids on campus.

“Gu Lu, hurry back and stand next to me!” Fan Xiaotian called out cheerfully.

“Hold on, I’m next!”

“Come over here, we’re the Justice League Alliance!”

“No, stand here with us!”

Many classmates waved at Gu Lu, trying to pull him into their group for the photo.

Popular indeed — though in the end, Gu Lu stood beside Xiaotian.

“What makes a good brother?” Fan Xiaotian laughed heartily.

Front row: Chinese, Math, English, and subject teachers lined up neatly.

Snap — the photo captured the moment.

Then came the next step.

“Dad, slow down.”

All eyes turned to Jiang Caixia, one of the quieter students in class — better known perhaps as Xu Meili’s shadow.

Everyone finally understood why when they saw her father’s empty pant leg…

“Oh.”

Gu Lu remembered Jiang Caixia only vaguely — she was the one who helped Xu Meili back to class after her injury, fussing over her endlessly until Xu nearly snapped.

“This man is your dad?” Wang Jianhua suddenly blurted out.

There was nothing wrong with the question itself, but the tone carried a sneer — “You admit it, and I’ll laugh at you for having a cripple for a father.”

Wang Jianhua — the kind of guy whose mouth was both foul and loud.

“Yes, this is my dad,” Jiang Caixia replied proudly. “He lost his leg in an accident. But guess what? He works hard, and he earns just as much as anyone else. Isn’t he amazing?”

Not at all the reaction Wang Jianhua expected, he blinked, caught off guard by her tone — like she was showing off a treasure. “Yeah… your dad really is amazing.”

“Right? Right?” Jiang Caixia beamed, hugging her father’s arm tighter.

Thanks to her pride and confidence, the students’ gazes toward her father held no pity, only respect.

Everyone’s family was different, Gu Lu mused. Zhang Yudong’s father was an engineering expert, and Zhou Lin came from a blended family, but her stepdad was kind. Sister Nana’s parents were migrant workers from the countryside, which made Chen Na a bit uneasy.

To everyone’s surprise, Zhao Juan — sweet, always ready to lend a classmate money — had a father who was a policeman.

“Hey, Chen Xue, your parent isn’t here?” Gu Lu asked, noticing her standing alone, her expression slightly downcast.

“Who knows where they ran off to,” she replied coldly, muttering under her breath, “Useless bastards.”

With parents and students taking photos freely, Gu Lu headed back to the classroom. Chen Xue didn’t have anyone coming either, but she preferred watching others from afar instead of staying inside.

Just before evening study — after the photo session —

“Sign here, please! Thanks!”

“Over here, over here!”

“Write smaller — we’re running out of space!”

After the trend of signing yearbooks faded, a new one emerged: bringing out their autumn uniforms and getting everyone to sign them.

Let’s describe the third edition of No. 37 Middle School’s uniform (designed in 2009): gray sleeves and collar, otherwise white. The zipper was cheap and jammed easily.

On the left chest sat a tiny school emblem — easy to mistake for a typo spelling “ye” instead of “also.”

Like most school uniforms, the sleeves were oversized — perfect for hiding snacks and drinks.

Gu Lu had already signed seven or eight uniforms. Since they wouldn’t wear it after graduation, collecting signatures from the whole class as a memento felt perfectly reasonable.

“Hey hey, check out my autograph!” Gu Lu teased as Zhao Juan approached with her uniform.

“Here,” Zhao Juan pointed at the spot where the No. 37 emblem was.

“Why there?” Gu Lu wondered why she wanted the signature over the emblem.

“Because you were interviewed and are famous now, so it needs to go on the emblem,” Zhao Juan explained.

Gu Lu raised an eyebrow — something about that logic felt...off. Still, he obediently wrote his name over the school logo on Zhao Juan’s chest.

Zhao Juan beamed happily.

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