Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C86

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Chapter 86: A Burst of Inspiration

Introducing classmates to one another was simple enough, and both Li Guyuan and Qi Caiwei obliged in helping facilitate the meeting.

Wan Bai and Gu Lu retreated to a shadowy corner of the hallway for their "private discussion." The bright sunlight outside couldn’t penetrate the dim alcove, making their conversation feel clandestine, as though it were something better left unsaid.

“President Wan Bai is really dedicated,” Qi Caiwei praised. “He even came by a couple of days ago to hand out club manuals.”

“He’s been running around quite a bit,” Li Guyuan added, adjusting his glasses. But still—only the most deserving should hold the title of president!

Why did Li Guyuan want to become president? His reasoning was straightforward: he simply wanted to catch the attention of the girls.

Their brief negotiation yielded quick results—after all, with only ten minutes between classes (and teachers often extending lectures), students had little time to waste. It was best to cut straight to the chase.

With a calm expression, Wan Bai emerged from the corner. Gu Lu had agreed to assist with original scriptwriting but firmly declined transferring clubs. Still, it was a satisfactory outcome.

“How’d it go, President?” Li Guyuan asked casually.

“Not bad,” Wan Bai replied, addressing both Li Guyuan and Qi Caiwei. “Prepare your works well—I’m looking forward to seeing your performances at next week’s new member assembly.”

With that, Wan Bai hurried off. He still needed to use the restroom, and unlike Fan Xiaotian, who might have helped out with such tasks, this was something he had to handle himself.

Gu Lu hadn’t made his decision lightly; he took a moment to think it through because he had many options available—he could adapt The Little Prince into a stage play or write another script. Many stories from Tales of the Bizarre seemed fitting for adaptation.

Though details eluded him now, certain tales remained vivid in his memory, like the Diary from the Past Beginning.

The last time Gu Lu exercised such initiative was when he wrote essays.

“Hey, Gu Lu…”

“Hold on—I’ve got something urgent.” Before Li Guyuan could finish, Gu Lu interjected, dashing back toward the classroom in record speed.

If Li Hong’s speed in Class Five of No. 37 Middle School could be likened to the Sonic God, then Gu Lu was undoubtedly the Charge God! His miraculous velocity returned once more, leaving Li Guyuan blinking after an already vanished figure.

“What’s got him so worked up?” Li Guyuan glanced at Qi Caiwei, who merely shrugged before walking away.

What had Gu Lu so eager? During his talk with Wan Bai, he’d brushed against something intangible—an elusive spark of inspiration.

Catching inspiration was like trying to grab a slippery loach in a rice paddy. Spotting it meant acting immediately, or else it would slip away forever.

Back at his seat, Gu Lu began organizing his thoughts. What exactly had triggered this idea? The literary club president, Wan Bai, had approached him, and Gu Lu felt emboldened…

“Yes, it’s confidence!” he realized. The trigger point was Tales of the Bizarre. Just two days earlier in Teacher Gao’s office, the work he’d subconsciously triggered was likely Park of Yesterday, adapted twice by Tales of the Bizarre.

The tagline [Best Story of 2005 in Japan] initially led Gu Lu to suspect either Keigo Higashino’s The Devotion of Suspect X or Densha Otoko, one of Japan’s pioneering pure love novels.

Both were indeed from 2005, but neither author fit the label of “literary genius.” Higashino was better known as a mystery prodigy.

More importantly, neither book contained references to Sherlock Holmes’ The Five Orange Pips.

“No—it must be Park of Yesterday! Yes, that’s it!” Gu Lu affirmed internally, finding the connection increasingly logical.

Human memory worked like this: one clue acted as a key, unlocking doors to floods of familiar recollections.

“In The Five Orange Pips, Holmes’ carelessness leads to the client’s death. Park of Yesterday builds upon this motif, suggesting that no matter how many times the cycle repeats, the boy’s friend is doomed.”

The author of Park of Yesterday, Minato Shukawa, was indeed worthy of the title “literary genius” upon closer inspection of his career.

“It makes sense that Park of Yesterday was hailed as the best story of 2005,” Gu Lu concluded.

He was grateful for his past life’s love of reading—it allowed him to recall relevant quotes and formulate a plan. An idea quietly took shape in his mind.

The bell rang, interrupting his train of thought. Glancing at his white cardstock timetable tucked inside his pencil case, Gu Lu prepared for the upcoming Literature class.

This was a Literature period, and Gu Lu couldn’t suppress a small smile. With nothing substantial ready for publication right now, this development offered a glimmer of hope.

Teacher Gao entered the classroom with a stormy expression. Even on her usual stern days, she wasn’t this cold. Who had offended her?

Gu Lu immediately wiped the grin off his face, shrinking into invisibility.

Without a word, Teacher Gao placed her textbook on the desk and began flipping through its pages.

An eerie silence enveloped the room.

“Wei Litong,” she finally spoke, addressing a student. “What exactly were you doing in the dorm last night? Should I tell everyone, or will you confess?”

Wei Litong—the avant-garde artist who knelt in the corner on Gu Lu’s first day of school—remained silent.

“You’re avoiding the main issue,” Teacher Gao said sharply. “After lights-out, you were hiding under the covers with a flashlight, engrossed in some online nonsense. Such dedication deserves applause, doesn’t it?”

Clapping slowly, Teacher Gao continued, “Our school allows excellent extracurricular books, but ‘online nonsense’ isn’t literature. Not even close.”

“If not for the dorm supervisor’s late-night rounds, we might never have discovered this. What could possibly be so captivating?” She pressed further. “Your parents pay hefty tuition fees to send you here—not for you to stay up all night browsing the web.”

“But to pull all-nighters reading online trash.”

The accused, Wei Litong, remained silent, but Zeng Jie, seated near the window in the back row, couldn’t resist chiming in.

Realizing his mistake too late, Zeng Jie mentally cursed his loose lips. This habit of speaking without thinking would get him into trouble sooner or later.

Too late for regrets. Sometimes it wasn’t about the teacher’s temperament—it was these kinds of students that cured low blood pressure.

Teacher Gao visibly seethed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. After several tense seconds, she regained composure, her voice icy. “Zeng Jie, stand at the back of the classroom for the rest of this lesson.”

Addressing Wei Litong, she added, “This is your first offense. I can forgive it this time, but remember: there’s no third strike. If it happens again, I’ll summon your parents for a discussion.”

“Understood? Wei Litong!”

“Crystal clear.”

And just like that, the incident passed. Despite being the primary offender, Wei Litong escaped punishment, while Zeng Jie ended up standing.

Still, Gu Lu understood. By responding, Zeng Jie highlighted the principle of equality among students and teachers alike.

“Open your Literature books. Today, we’ll study Shu Ting’s To the Oak Tree,” Teacher Gao announced, beginning her lecture.

The beauty of modern poetry softened her mood slightly, and her tone grew marginally warmer as she taught.

Sneaking a peek at the next class—it was History. Quietly, Gu Lu plotted his moves.

As long as this wasn’t a Conan-centric world, Thursday inevitably led to Friday.

This Saturday, Gu Lu planned to scout locations. On Sunday, he arranged to meet Zhou Lin for a game of badminton. Why Zhou Lin? Because his buddy Fan Xiaotian was unavailable, and classmates were out of the question.

“Why choose this spot for our workout?” Zhou Lin asked curiously.

The location was a stretch of road where years of disrepair had turned it into an overgrown clearing. Few people visited, leaving fallen leaves scattered untouched across the ground.

Sometimes, the wrapping exists solely to enhance the filling.

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