Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C78

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Chapter 78: It’s Done!

At exactly ten o’clock in the morning, the entire student body of No. 8 High School gathered on the school field, lined up neatly for the opening ceremony.

The representative freshman chosen to give a speech at this year’s ceremony was none other than Zhou Lin.

“Wait… what?” Every time Gu Lu felt a little question mark pop into his head, it wasn’t because he was confused—it was usually everyone else around him who had no idea what was going on. Holy crap, how did my desk partner end up on stage?

“She’s really something, isn’t she? Smart and gorgeous,” said Tian Xiao, the resident pen-spinning champion, completely misinterpreting Gu Lu’s stunned expression.

Tian Xiao leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s from Class One—the elite ‘Qingbei’ track. I heard she scored a 741 on her high school entrance exam. Insane, right? Our school fought tooth and nail to snatch her away from No. 1 High.”

Hmm. The world just kept getting weirder and weirder. If Gu Lu remembered correctly, sure, Zhou Lin was smart, but she’d never cracked the top five in their grade rankings before.

The top student in their class was clearly Sister Nana. So what was with this sudden 741-point miracle? Was she holding back during regular exams? Honestly, Gu Lu half-suspected Zhou Lin had some kind of cheat code—or maybe even an RPG-style leveling system only she knew about.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time…” Tian Xiao clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Man, you’re in trouble. You’ve got it bad.” He glanced over, noticing Gu Lu hadn’t blinked once since Zhou Lin walked onstage. “But hey, we’re desk partners, so I’ve got your back. I know someone in her class—I can introduce you two.”

The seating chart had already been finalized by the teacher based on height, and Gu Lu couldn’t complain about his current setup. His new male desk partner was fine—actually, he was great. At least Gu Lu found comfort in having someone roughly his own height sitting next to him.

“No need,” Gu Lu replied honestly. “We’re already pretty familiar. We used to be desk partners back in middle school. I just didn’t realize she was this good academically.”

Tian Xiao paused for a moment, then patted Gu Lu on the shoulder. “Bro, lying to me is one thing, but don’t lie to yourself.”

Gu Lu didn’t respond. He needed a moment to process everything. Only when he calmed down did he notice that Tian Xiao, despite being shorter than average, had surprisingly large hands—longer than Gu Lu’s by at least an inch.

Weren’t hand size and height supposed to develop proportionally? Gu Lu zoned out again.

Finally, after what felt like hours of endless speeches filled with platitudes, the opening ceremony came to an end. The principal droned on as usual, recounting the illustrious history of No. 8 High School, listing recent achievements, and encouraging students to dream big about the future.

As the crowd dispersed, the scene resembled waves crashing against each other—if you were to capture it from above with a drone, it would look like a sea of humanity rippling outward.

“Hey, man, how’d you manage to skip military training?” Zeng Jie approached Gu Lu casually after the ceremony, clearly trying to strike up a conversation. “I took cold showers until I caught a fever, but I still couldn’t get out of it.”

“It’s nothing special,” Gu Lu shrugged. “Just an old issue—I have a medical condition that makes intense physical activity risky. The doctor advised against it, so I skipped.”

“Nice,” Zeng Jie grinned. “I should’ve thought of something like that.”

Don’t force small talk if you don’t know how, buddy. Gu Lu already had a pretty good idea why Zeng Jie was being so friendly. Earlier in class, he had accidentally blurted out something awkward. Now Zeng Jie was making amends by striking up a conversation—a silent apology, per the unspoken rules among students.

“So, any plans to join a club?” Zeng Jie asked, changing the subject.

“What clubs are there?” Gu Lu countered, genuinely curious. This was unfamiliar territory for him—he’d gone straight to vocational school in his past life and never bothered with extracurriculars. But watching anime, he’d always envied the vibrant club culture Japanese high schoolers seemed to enjoy.

“I’m not sure either,” Zeng Jie admitted. “Let’s ask the homeroom teacher later.”

Most of No. 8 High School’s clubs were designed to boost college applications, though a few catered to personal interests. As they chatted, the two made their way back to the classroom.

The first day of school was all about introductions—no classes yet. Once they returned to the room, the focus shifted to electing class representatives. Gu Lu had zero interest in taking on such responsibilities; given his academic standing, he knew better than to volunteer. Despite multiple hints from Teacher Gao encouraging self-nominations, Gu Lu stayed quiet. The list of elected representatives would naturally emerge over time through tasks like collecting homework and leading morning readings, so we’ll leave that aside for now.

He’d originally planned to visit the Qingbei class to catch up with old classmates, but there simply wasn’t enough time.

After school, Gu Lu went straight home and flopped onto his bed—not the couch, mind you, since the new rosewood sofa was uncomfortably hard. He spent the evening pondering the synthesis sequence triggered earlier that day.

“Which works by Liu Cixin might include references to Lu Xun?” Gu Lu mused aloud. “Probably just The Wandering Earth, The Village Teacher, and Underground Fire. That’s about it.”

Having read so widely, Gu Lu could only recall rough plot outlines. Still, The Village Teacher seemed most likely. “It opens with a rural educator imparting knowledge even as he faces death. A reference to Lu Xun fits perfectly within that context.”

Since The Village Teacher was a short story, this likely meant the trigger involved Liu Cixin’s sci-fi anthology: The Micro-Era, With Her Eyes, Heard It in the Morning, Taking Care of God, Cloud of Poems………

One classic work after another surfaced in Gu Lu’s mind. All excellent, critically acclaimed stories—but none offered tangible items worth possessing.

Why? Because in these kinds of short sci-fi tales, what exactly could Gu Lu claim ownership of?

In contrast, other books yielded concrete treasures: the rose from The Little Prince, the bow-and-arrow set from After School, the piggy bank from The Bus Driver Who Wanted to Be God, or the honey water from Mr. Holmes. Each item held significance within its respective narrative. Yet here Gu Lu sat, scratching his head, utterly frustrated.

“Forget it. Time to draw illustrations.” Determined not to stay up late, Gu Lu stuck to his carefully planned schedule. Armed with watercolor pens, he sketched and erased, pausing occasionally to refine details.

Three hours later—

“Yes! Finally, it’s done!”

All sixty-plus illustrations for The Little Prince were complete, painstakingly traced line by line. Gu Lu handled the finished pages and templates with care, packing them securely for submission the next day.

Glancing at the clock—nine-thirty—he figured it wasn’t too late to make a call. Picking up his phone, he dialed Director Jian. After four or five rings, the line connected.

“Little Gu, what’s up?” Director Jian’s voice carried a hint of distraction; he was practicing calligraphy in his study.

“Director Jian, I’ve completed my manuscript. However, this one’s a bit unusual.”

Unusual? Director Jian’s curiosity piqued. “How so?”

“It requires accompanying illustrations to be considered complete. So instead of typing it out, I wrote everything by hand in a notebook.” Gu Lu explained.

“Like picture books,” Director Jian nodded, understanding immediately. “Children’s literature often includes illustrations, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Could you provide a mailing address, then? I’ll need it to fill out the forms properly.” Gu Lu requested.

“Grab a pen and jot this down.” After a brief pause, Director Jian recited the full address along with contact information, including the recipient’s name, phone number, and postal code.

“Thanks for your help. My handwriting isn’t great, so if anything’s unclear, please have the editor reach out to me directly.” Gu Lu added preemptively.

“No worries, I’ll make sure Xiao Zhu contacts you.”

Given the late hour, neither lingered long on pleasantries. They wrapped up the call quickly, leaving Gu Lu with plenty of evening ahead.

Though bedtime wasn’t until eleven, Gu Lu picked up a book to pass the remaining hours. But try as he might, he couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting back to The Little Prince. Its creation filled him with quiet excitement—a spark of pride lighting up his chest.

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