Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C92

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Chapter 92: You’re Better Than

[Mr. Holmes—the author’s name suggests it’s written by a Chinese national, but the writing style and word choice feel like a foreign translation. Is this author an overseas Chinese writer living abroad?]

[ shouldn’t feature ongoing works; according to the rules, they should be published in full at once. That said, I enjoyed this story. Though it’s only the opening, an elderly feels more grounded as a character who has lived his life in Britain. Even in his old age, Holmes remains sharp, and his methods of deduction are still effective—but he is limited by his aging body. His memory falters, his movements slow, and he relies on a notebook to keep track of his daily activities. The author has brought this god-like figure down from his pedestal, yet I find him more relatable now. Lastly, Mr. Holmes doesn’t belong in Classic Reads.]

[It doesn’t quite feel like detective fiction. The language leans more toward literature, with heavy doses of introspection. If I hadn’t seen it in , I’d give it high marks. But for a mystery magazine, I’d rate it mediocre at best—a literary work that barely touches on Sherlock Holmes.]

The feedback obtained through surveys might lack the immediacy of online comments, but each form was filled out with painstaking care—after all, mailing them wasn’t exactly convenient.

Among the first batch of responses, nearly one-third included evaluations of Mr. Holmes—a remarkably high proportion considering there were over twenty works featured in the issue, and readers typically commented based on personal interest.

Of those evaluations, about sixty percent were positive.

Generally speaking, this approval rating wouldn’t meet the threshold for publication. But this case was different.

“The writing is excellent, though it lacks the conventional elements of detective fiction. The literary quality is quite high… may be young, but judging from that banquet, he must frequently engage in self-reflection, which explains the abundance of psychological descriptions.”

Chief editor Gao also noted the earlier queries about Gu Lu’s writing style: “Being overly imitative isn’t necessarily a good thing. Mimicking the tone of Canon of Sherlock Holmes naturally gives it a translated feel.”

“Publish it as a standalone volume!” Chief editor Gao made his decision and called Han Cang into his office.

A double harvest! In the near future, Gu Lu would have even more privileges to exchange with Director Hu!

Gu Lu, who had left his phone behind, hadn’t yet received Corresponding Editor Han Cang’s message when Wan Bai and arrived.

The meeting took place in the cafeteria.

“This is Mr. Wu Du, the advisor for and a renowned writer affiliated with the . He has many published works,” Wan Bai introduced. “And this is Gu Lu.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Wu. Thank you for taking the time to review my work this morning,” Gu Lu greeted politely.

“There’s no need for such formalities. The story is already complete—I’ll merely adjust it into proper dramatic format,” Wu Du replied humbly.

Though some older writers might flaunt their seniority, Wu Du didn’t lean too heavily on his experience. Besides, having just read , the lingering sense of melancholy still pricked at his heart.

“I have no prior experience writing plays,” Gu Lu admitted.

What a composed young man, Wu Du thought, then asked a question that had been nagging him while reading: “Do you have any younger siblings?”

“Yes, a younger sister,” Gu Lu responded.

Ah, that explained it. No matter what, ensuring her survival was paramount. From the content of the story, traces of the author’s life could be discerned.

There was another question—how did he get along with his father? But since they had just met, it felt inappropriate to probe so deeply. Advisor Wu Du held back.

The purpose of this meeting was for Wan Bai and Wu Du, representing the club, to present Gu Lu with a formatting revision proposal.

The core content wouldn’t change; only the format would be adjusted. Gu Lu had no objections to this plan.

With everything settled, Wan Bai finally breathed a sigh of relief. After days of running around, he could finally show the revised script to Vice President Zhang Liru and the rest of the members.

Zhang Liru had been putting considerable pressure on him lately...

No one mentioned where Gu Lu spent his lunch breaks. Without fail, he frequented an internet café during that time to write manuscripts, as the royalties from Chronicles of Mystery hadn’t come through yet.

In the afternoon, after two classes, students scattered freely. Across the school, classrooms emptied as everyone headed outdoors.

As mentioned earlier, Wednesdays’ third and fourth periods were reserved for club activities.

Those not involved in clubs often roamed the playground or engaged in other leisure activities.

“Our basketball club’s freshman orientation is simple. Thirty-five new members joined, and we’ll hold a free-throw competition. Each participant gets twelve shots, and the winner receives a twenty-yuan reward.”

For sports-related clubs, orientations were held on the field. Club president Lu Shangtong got straight to the point without wasting words.

The rewards came from the school budget, so there was little controversy. What sparked debate, however, were class-based incentives. Parallel classes and experimental classes sometimes rewarded high scorers using class funds, leading to conflicts.

At the free-throw line, Gu Lu managed to sink two baskets—though several shots missed entirely. As cannon fodder, he quietly stepped aside.

“That year at eighteen, on the school stage, standing like a minion…” Gu Lu mused as he watched other freshmen hit five or six shots.

Lü Ping, naturally athletic, scored nine out of twelve, securing first place effortlessly.

“Why do you look unhappy even after winning?” Gu Lu asked.

“My idol, Kobe Bryant, entered the NBA at seventeen. I’ll turn seventeen next year, but the gap between us is enormous,” Lü Ping lamented.

“You can’t think like that,” Gu Lu consoled, patting Lü Ping on the shoulder. “You’re younger than Kobe—that’s one victory. One victory for you, zero for Kobe—that’s two victories. Two victories for you, still zero for Kobe—that’s a major triumph. Your future holds boundless possibilities.”

His words carried a semblance of logic, and Lü Ping felt marginally better. He also reflected that helping Gu Lu join the club hadn’t been a waste after all.

Other clubs’ orientations were equally intriguing, though not all could be recounted. Here’s the highlight:

The Tree People Literary Club held its freshman orientation in Class 1, Grade 11. With both new and returning members, the classroom was packed—about forty people in total.

Newcomers Wei Jiao, Qi Caiwei, and Li Guyuan sat on the left side.

Veterans Wan Bai, Zhang Liru, and others occupied the right. It might be worth noting that Zhang Liru, sitting upright, towered over everyone nearby.

Advisor Wu Du presided at the front.

The session began with newcomers sharing their own works.

Qi Caiwei and Li Guyuan earned enthusiastic applause. For Qi Caiwei, much of the praise stemmed from her striking appearance, though the emotions in her poetry remained abstract.

Li Guyuan, on the other hand, impressed everyone purely with his storytelling. Upon returning to his seat, he heard the words he most wanted to hear:

“That was truly wonderful. The story feels fresh and innovative,” Qi Caiwei remarked.

“No wonder you wear glasses—you must be smart,” Wei Jiao teased.

Though Wei Jiao’s compliment was odd, Li Guyuan accepted it graciously.

“To our new members, the quality of your contributions has been impressive, especially Li Guyuan’s story—it was excellent,” Advisor Wu Du praised before signaling to Wan Bai.

Wan Bai distributed printed copies of Park of Yesterday to everyone. Each member received one.

“As you know, this year’s school anniversary requires us to perform an original play. This is the script we’ll rehearse,” Wu Du announced.

Eagerly, the students flipped through the pages. Particularly Vice President Zhang Liru, who couldn’t wait to see what the mysterious outsider had produced—the previous submissions from Rou Rou and Tan Zhu had been rejected outright.

Now, she wanted to witness firsthand just how extraordinary this script truly was.

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