Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C112

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Chapter 112: Goodbye,

“It’s about time you learned how cruel the world can be. Don’t think just because you’ve transmigrated, everything will magically become kind and fair.”

Gu Lu had firsthand experience from his past life working in a factory. On his production line, there was always that one person who loved tattling on others, causing coworkers to lose wages for no reason. The informant didn’t gain anything from it, nor had anyone wronged him—it was sheer malice.

Sometimes, people trip you up without needing a reason. Gu Lu had deduced as much but still hesitated to assume the worst of others. Perhaps the issue wasn’t entirely with Sprout’s editors; maybe other factors were at play.

But if you can’t fight back, you can still walk away. Gu Lu decisively tapped into his network within the literary circle. Before long, Old Li, the secondary review editor of —a man with extensive connections—offered him a new path forward.

[Mu Zi Zi: Are these two stories really problematic? Since when did Sprout develop such refined taste? Submit them to —I know the deputy chief editor there.]

[Orange Chief: Isn’t Youth Digest a literary publication?]

If Gu Lu remembered correctly, Youth Digest was published by the Communist Youth League of China, with the mission of “promoting advanced culture and guiding young people.”

Old Li knew the ins and outs of other magazines. Youth Digest had sections like “Pleasant Reading” and “Heartbeat Theater.” The former accepted imaginative pieces, while the latter welcomed science fiction, suspense, and horror stories. Both sections could accommodate and .

This was indeed a blind spot for Gu Lu. He’d always assumed digest-style publications prioritized literary merit above all else.

[Mu Zi Zi: Actually, Mr. Gu, those short stories you previously submitted to Story Digest might have broken records if sent to Youth Digest instead.]

Was Mu Zi Zi secretly an undercover agent planted by another magazine to sabotage Story Digest?

Still, looking back, Gu Lu would’ve chosen Story Digest again. Other magazines dragged their feet through the three-stage review process, whereas Story Digest, despite adding an extra step called “one round of discussion,” remained leagues ahead in terms of speed.

Back then, his top priority had been earning money to sustain himself.

Gu Lu picked up where Old Li left off, wondering aloud whether he could set a record by getting featured in Youth Digest.

[Mu Zi Zi: The youngest… well, nobody really tracks that, do they? I’m talking about making the color edition cover.]

The color edition and standard edition were twins, but the former’s cover carried significant weight. The editorial board invited renowned artists to design covers themed around the most prominent writers, scientists, athletes, cities, or trending topics of the moment.

In other words, before Youth Digest shifted its focus to WeChat public accounts in 2016, its color edition cover held influence akin to the Chinese version of Time Magazine’s cover.

Gu Lu searched online. To appear on the cover, one had to be featured in one of three columns: “Colorful Figures,” “Colorful Focus,” or “Trending Colors.”

“The last ‘Colorful Figure’ profiled Li Xue Ling, the founder of YY Voice.” Gu Lu recalled using YY Voice during his gaming days.

Before that? Renowned author … Gu Lu felt the pressure mounting. By this point, Liu had already penned classics like , A Heap of Nonsense, and .

With and under his belt, Gu Lu wondered if he stood a chance—if luck was on his side and he scored something like Stories of Remarkable People, could he pull it off?

[Mu Zi Zi: Going from a Story Digest writer to a Youth Digest cover personality—I ask you, who else has done that?]

Old Li had watched Gu Lu climb the ranks step by step, so he believed in him wholeheartedly—perhaps even more than Gu Lu believed in himself.

Young man, rise and become a great writer!

Why was Old Li so confident? After years of editing, one particular passage from had stuck with him.

“Some pilots arrive here by looping their planes at a precise spot in the Bermuda Triangle. Some housewives step through the back panel of their kitchen cabinets; some mathematicians discover…”

Heaven, in the conventional understanding, meant death. But Pipes didn’t comfort readers with promises of paradise after death—it suggested heaven could be reached without dying, via strange and whimsical pathways. There was a melancholic warmth to it.

Combine that with what Old Li knew about Gu Lu’s difficult upbringing. Despite living in metaphorical gutters, Gu Lu wrote as though he’d never seen the sun but desperately wanted to tell others how warm it felt.

Every time he thought about it, Old Li was deeply moved.

“What a shame he didn’t stick with that style…” Old Li muttered, smacking himself hard on the head.

“It’s your fault, all your fault! Why did you push for stronger storytelling and let such a unique voice fade away? Li Jiangyue, you’re the biggest executioner in the literary world!” Old Li berated himself.

Meanwhile, Gu Lu chatted obliviously, unaware that Old Li was physically punishing himself.

“Sent! If I become a contracted writer for Youth Digest, I won’t even need to attend evening study sessions anymore.” Gu Lu grinned, lounging in his chair with his legs tucked beneath him.

Submitting Moon Stone and Park of Yesterday to Deputy Chief Editor Qu of Youth Digest required no mention of introductions—doing so might come across as name-dropping.

There was no way Gu Lu was revising those stories. Not now, not ever.

Enough with catering to Sprout. Goodbye, Sprout!

All six articles from The Selected Works of Minato Shukawa were eligible for serialization—the highest utilization rate of any short story collection he’d drawn yet.

“Ding ding ding—” His phone alarm blared, snapping Gu Lu out of his thoughts.

“Oh no, I’m running late!” Without finishing his reply, Gu Lu bolted out the door.

A new hot pot fish restaurant had opened near his home, complete with a gong-and-drum troupe to celebrate its grand opening. Waist drums, big drums, cymbals, gongs, and crotals filled the air as performers paraded through the streets holding signs advertising discounts.

Gu Lu noted the promotional period: 38% off storewide. He planned to check it out. Even alone, he deserved to treat himself well.

The restaurant closed at 12:30 AM. By the time Gu Lu returned home, it was nearly ten o’clock. Another half-hour chat with Old Li flew by unnoticed.

The hot pot fish was delicious.

At night, Gu Lu stayed up later than usual, thanks to the hearty meal. Sleep doesn’t vanish—it transforms into gaming hours, food…

The next morning, Friday dawned bright and early.

“Here, this little flower is for you. It has a name—something like ‘Nobleman,’” Lü Ping said, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his forehead. True to his word, he ran to school every week—a testament to his discipline.

From his bag, he pulled out a small potted plant bearing a single , vibrant and delicate.

“?” Gu Lu instinctively took a step backward.

What exactly went through this guy’s mind when he decided to give another guy a flower? Frankly, it unnerved him.

To make matters worse, Lü Ping hadn’t lowered his voice. The entire class heard, their curious gazes boring into Gu Lu.

What was going on?

“My dad went home and told my mom how amazing you are. She scolded me first, then Dad said he’d talked to you about tutoring me in writing. Mom insisted I bring you a gift to show our gratitude,” Lü Ping explained.

Gu Lu mulled it over. After yesterday’s parent-teacher meeting, he’d exchanged a few words with Lü Ping’s father, assuming it was just polite talk. He hadn’t expected them to send a gift so promptly—clearly, they were action-oriented.

“We run a flower shop, and since osmanthus is in season, Mom thought it’d be fitting to send you this. Congratulations on your academic success—it’s a symbol of triumph,” Lü Ping added.

Giving cash to a classmate’s friend would’ve been inappropriate, and snacks felt too casual. So Lü Ping’s mother opted for osmanthus, rich with symbolic meaning.

Adults sure knew how to handle these things.

Beep—

[Eight Consecutive ] [Fusion of Classical and Sci-Fi] [World-Renowned Sci-Fi Author]

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