Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C110

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Chapter 110: A Little Overbearing

, a magazine with roots stretching back to the 1950s, had every right to be proud. It wasn’t just a publication; it was an institution that birthed the prestigious “,” which had launched countless literary careers. But no matter how illustrious its history, that didn’t give , one of its corresponding editors, license to treat authors with such haughty disdain.

After years working at Sprout, Qi Bian had begun conflating the magazine’s reputation with his own abilities—a mindset not unlike luxury store clerks who think they’re superior simply because they sell expensive goods.

"What's with all the rushing?" Qi Bian scowled as he opened yet another email from an author nagging him for feedback. Who did these people think they were? Most of them weren’t even newbies—they should know better than to pester him like this. Stories needed time to be read properly, one by one. Patience was key. Didn’t these writers understand anything?

Still, despite his irritation, Qi Bian kept his response polite enough:

"The story's logic could use some work, and the characters' motivations feel inconsistent in places. Please revise accordingly, Gu Lu. Looking forward to your resubmission."

In truth, Qi Bian hadn’t even glanced at the two stories Gu Lu submitted. His strategy was simple: make the writer revise twice before approving the piece. Call it —or call it petty power-tripping. Either way, it was effective. And deep down, Qi Bian knew most writers produced their best work on the first draft. That’s why he only asked for two rounds of edits—just enough to assert control without losing a good manuscript altogether.

"I’ll let you tweak it twice," he muttered to himself, satisfied with his compromise. After all, he didn’t want to miss out on quality submissions.

By the time Gu Lu received Qi Bian’s reply, it was nearly eleven o’clock at night. Earlier, around ten, he’d put his phone aside after chatting with his younger sister. Back then, smartphones weren’t filled with addictive games or apps like TikTok. Gu Lu still managed to resist their pull.

Scrolling through TikTok might kill time, but it left him feeling increasingly anxious. Reading, on the other hand, required effort to pick up—but once immersed, it brought peace rather than stress.

---

Thursday, October 4th, 2012

Auspicious Calendar Note: Avoid stubborn arguments; embrace humility.

Today marked the ’s annual parent-teacher meeting for Grade 10 students. With parents occupying the classrooms, classes ended early, leaving the afternoon free for teachers and families to discuss progress.

“Mom, you’re late! The event’s about to start!” Qi Caiwei fretted, tugging her mother toward the classroom.

“There was traffic, and I had rehearsals with the dance troupe,” her mother explained calmly. At forty-two, she retained a youthful appearance thanks to decades of disciplined ballet training, which had earned her recognition as a in her youth. Even now, standing among the crowd of parents, she stood out like a swan among ducks.

Qi Caiwei brushed off further explanations, guiding her mother into the chaotic classroom. Parents mingled with students, filling the space with overlapping conversations. Once settled, Qi Caiwei left, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure on her way out.

Amidst the sea of parents, Gu Lu became an unwitting focal point. Qi Caiwei’s mother turned to the neatly seated student beside her.

“You’re Caiwei’s desk partner?” she began, feigning ignorance before cutting to the chase. “Doesn’t your family have time to attend? Parent meetings are important.”

Though curiosity was natural, her directness bordered on intrusive. Gu Lu couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by Qi Caiwei’s mother’s domineering tone.

“Yes, we just changed seats after the monthly exam. I’m her current desk partner,” Gu Lu replied diplomatically.

His answer hovered between acknowledgment and evasion, leaving her unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. Internally, she sighed. Communicating with young people these days felt like navigating a minefield.

Parents’ attire often revealed glimpses of their socioeconomic status. Some arrived in sharp suits, exuding success; others wore casual clothes, clean but unremarkable. Then there was Father Dou, whose stained work uniform and sweat-drenched T-shirt spoke volumes about his day spent installing air conditioners on high-rise buildings.

“He’s always been athletic, so I told him to focus on track and field. Run hard, make me proud,” said Lü Ping’s father.

“My kid talks back constantly. One word from me gets ten in return,” complained Zeng Ha’er’s mother.

“Just like his dad—won’t listen no matter what,” added Tang Yuan’s mother.

“And Wei Litong? All he does is play video games at home and slack off in class,” grumbled his grandfather.

The room buzzed with parental grievances, each more exaggerated than the last. Gu Lu sat quietly amidst the chatter, tuning in here and there while keeping his distance. It struck him as odd how many parents prefaced praise for their children with criticism, as if modesty demanded self-deprecation first.

When the bell rang, signaling the start of the meeting, voices softened instantly. Regardless of age, the school bell carried an almost Pavlovian authority.

Two minutes later, Ms. Gao entered the classroom, clutching a blue folder. She scanned the room, pleased to see mostly parents rather than grandparents. As the homeroom teacher, she’d personally called ahead to ensure meaningful communication would take place—except in unavoidable cases like Wei Litong’s, where elderly relatives stepped in.

“Here’s a copy of our class’s recent test scores,” Ms. Gao announced, handing out printed sheets.

As Gu Lu skimmed the results, Class Monitor Lu Yi’s performance caught his eye. Though top-tier in math and English, her grades in subjects requiring memorization—chemistry, history, politics, geography—lagged behind.

“Her English probably comes from her parents being middle school English teachers,” Gu Lu recalled overhearing earlier.

Soon, every parent held a detailed report card arranged by seating order.

“Our seating arrangement aims to foster mutual support,” Ms. Gao explained. “Stronger students in sciences assist those struggling, and vice versa for humanities.”

She paused, inviting questions. “Feel free to raise any concerns. Today is all about open communication.”

One mother raised her hand hesitantly. “Does Ma Xuanyou disrupt class? My daughter Huang Lu struggles to concentrate as it is.”

Ms. Gao reassured her. “Ma Xuanyou doesn’t disturb the class. Please rest assured.”

Another hand shot up—Zeng Ha’er’s mother. Ms. Gao braced herself. This particular parent had a knack for raising her blood pressure.

“Does Zeng Ha’er distract other students?” she asked bluntly.

Ms. Gao nodded diplomatically. “He occasionally stands as punishment, but disruptions have decreased significantly.”

“Thank you, teacher,” the mother replied, fully aware of her son’s antics.

Then came Qi Caiwei’s mother, addressing both Ms. Gao and Gu Lu directly. “First, I don’t mean to single anyone out. But looking at this Gu Lu student… his Literature score isn’t exceptional, and his humanities grades are merely average. Meanwhile, my Caiwei excels in science. If the goal is mutual assistance, shouldn’t pairings be more balanced?”

Her words rippled through the room. Eyes darted to Gu Lu’s report card. Here was a student attending the meeting alone, lagging in and lacking standout strengths in humanities. By contrast, Qi Caiwei ranked seventh in the entire class—a shining example of academic prowess.

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