Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C58

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Chapter 58: Subtle Maneuvers

After stepping out of the shower, Gu Lu's father left his phone outside.

In older residential complexes like this one, most bathrooms lacked any concept of separating wet and dry areas. Add to that the prevalence of squat toilets, and you had a recipe for chaos—literally. To avoid dropping soap into the abyss below, it was common practice to cover the "pit" while bathing.

After about seven or eight minutes, Gu Lu's father emerged from the bathroom, hastily throwing on some of Changmao’s clothes.

“Lao Gu!” Startled by the sudden shout, Gu Lu's father turned around, dripping wet and still un-dried.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“That scammer you mentioned earlier kept calling,” Changmao said, flicking his unkempt bangs out of his eyes. “I couldn’t resist answering and giving him a piece of my mind… but guess what? Turns out this ‘Director Hu’ isn’t a fraud after all. He’s actually the admissions director at Chongqing No. 8 High School.”

“You can verify the number on their official website,” Changmao added. “Your son, Gu Lu, apparently won first place in a national essay competition and got early admission to No. 8!”

“??”

Gu Lu's father’s brain was flooded with question marks. His academically challenged child being admitted early? And winning first place in a national writing contest? Come to think of it, he vaguely remembered hearing something about an award-winning essay before.

“Call him back immediately,” Changmao said excitedly, grinning ear-to-ear. “And tonight, we’re drinking. A lot.”

While he didn’t know much about No. 8 High School being the best in Chongqing, he did understand that winning a national writing competition was no small feat. So celebrating with booze was non-negotiable.

---

“Principal Chang really knows how to pull strings,” Gu Lu whispered under his breath as he pulled out three books he’d bought back in elementary school: Robinson Crusoe, Childhood, and How the Steel Was Tempered. The latter two were abridged editions designed for younger readers.

Principal Chang’s latest maneuver was both clever and cost-effective. Just before graduation, he instructed every student and teacher to contribute three books each to create a campus library corner. With over a thousand people in the school, even if there were duplicates, the collection would easily exceed three thousand volumes—a decent size for a middle school library.

“It gets things done without spending money,” Gu Lu mused, glancing at the pile of donated books. Among them were classics like Gulliver’s Travels, Lives of the Famous, and Rickshaw Boy.

“Jane Eyre?” Gu Lu picked up the book Zhou Lin had contributed, ready to showcase his vast knowledge. “This translation is excellent.”

“Huh?” Zhou Lin blinked, clearly not following.

“The translator who rendered Jane Eyre into Chinese was brilliant,” Gu Lu explained. “If they’d gone with a literal translation, it would’ve been Jane Eller, which lacks the elegance of ‘Eyre.’ Don’t you agree?”

“And fun fact—the earliest translation of this novel was titled The Story of an Orphaned Wanderer. Isn’t that interesting?”

Gu Lu braced himself for Zhou Lin’s inevitable admiration.

“Oh, wow! So who translated the name Jane Eyre?” she asked innocently.

“…” Gu Lu froze. This was where his knowledge hit a wall. Like many internet-savvy trivia enthusiasts, he knew a little bit about everything—but not deeply enough to answer such specific questions.

Quickly changing the subject, Gu Lu pointed toward Zhang Yudong’s contribution. “Hey, look! Zhang Yudong brought an entire set of Sherlock Holmes detective stories!”

“So what?” Zhou Lin shrugged. “Wang Han brought a complete history of the Ming Dynasty.”

Ah yes, Wang Han—the self-proclaimed friend of underachievers and history enthusiast. That massive tome contained over three million words!

Dodging the bullet, Gu Lu let out a sigh of relief—only to hear Zhou Lin press again: “So, who translated Jane Eyre?”

“Ahem, I think I’ll go check out those Sherlock Holmes stories,” Gu Lu said quickly, standing up. He genuinely wanted to take a look; there was still one more detective fiction piece yet to be synthesized. Maybe browsing through Holmes would spark some inspiration.

Unbeknownst to him, Zhou Lin smirked mischievously. She’d deliberately baited him.

“I must have read A Study in Scarlet five times already,” Gu Lu remarked casually as he flipped through the pages.

“You like it?” Zhang Yudong, ever straightforward, reached into his bag and pulled out a copy of The Sign of the Four. “I started with this one, then fell in love with the series. My dad bought me the whole set. Here, take this—it’s yours.”

“Gu Lu, don’t refuse me,” Zhang Yudong insisted.

Was this some kind of over-the-top billionaire dialogue? Before Gu Lu could respond, Zhang Yudong continued: “It’s a gift from our Park Alliance. If you don’t want it, fine—I’ll just donate it along with the rest.”

Though Gu Lu hadn’t officially joined the so-called Park Alliance (a group Zhang Yudong had invited him to), nor had he hung out with them since their last encounter, Zhang Yudong clearly considered him part of the crew.

Caught off guard, Gu Lu accepted the gift graciously while mentally debating what to give in return.

Before he could decide, his golden insight system pinged again—

[The Real Sherlock Holmes][Elegy of Old Age][Wise and Beautiful]

Another synthesis sequence! The previous one involving detective fiction remained unresolved, and now this new clue appeared.

“Thanks,” Gu Lu said sincerely.

Seeing his ally accept the book, Zhang Yudong beamed with satisfaction. Just as he opened his mouth to say more, a sharp female voice interrupted: “Where’s my pen cap?!”

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt. Whatever drama unfolded next between the girl and Zhang Yudong wasn’t something Gu Lu intended to get involved in.

Returning to his seat with The Sign of the Four in hand, Gu Lu reflected on the keywords displayed earlier. Thanks to his extensive reading, he already had a hunch about the work being synthesized.

“It’s shaping up to be a great piece,” he thought. “I remember it was adapted into a TV series too. Arguably the greatest secondary creation based on Holmes.”

---

When Gu Lu arrived home that evening, the familiar stench of alcohol greeted him at the door.

Walking further inside, he found his father sitting stiffly, resembling a statue in a temple. The atmosphere felt heavy and solemn.

Any ordinary child would’ve trembled at such a stern expression, but Gu Lu remained unfazed. After muttering a quick “I’m home,” he dropped his bag and started preparing dinner, leaving his father sitting silently.

“You got early admission to No. 8 High School? Why didn’t you tell me? Are your wings fully grown now?” Gu Lu's father’s voice dripped with suppressed anger.

“Do you really need me to micromanage every little thing? Can’t you handle it yourself?” Gu Lu shot back, mimicking his father’s usual tone. Seeing the puzzled look on Gu Lu's father’s face, he added, “That’s what Dad always tells me.”

For a few seconds, Gu Lu's father was speechless. Still, he pressed on, “Getting into high school isn’t a trivial matter. I’ve already spoken with Director Hu from the admissions office. You should’ve called me beforehand. Otherwise, I might’ve thought it was a scam.”

“Can’t get through to you,” Gu Lu replied flatly. “If I’m lucky, out of twenty calls, only one goes through. Trust me, I tried.”

“But what could I do about that?” He spread his hands helplessly, his expression eerily similar to a popular meme: [I Know, Being Ignored Is My Fate.JPG].

“I’ve been busy with work, so I didn’t have time to answer…” Gu Lu's father trailed off awkwardly. “But you could’ve left a message! I’d have seen it and replied.”

“Oh, so you actually read texts?” Gu Lu feigned surprise. “I thought you never checked messages.”

Truthfully, Gu Lu's father rarely bothered with text messages due to the overwhelming amount of spam. Opening his phone, he scrolled to the contact labeled “Son.” The last message sent from that number was over two months ago.

[Dad, my chest hurts. I can’t breathe.]

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