Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C111

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Chapter 111:

The parent who had spoken—though her words stung—wasn’t entirely wrong. After all, her concern stemmed from a desire for her child to have a desk partner who could complement her strengths.

’s mother hesitated, wanting to defend Gu Lu but ultimately deciding against it. After all, how could she speak on behalf of someone else’s academic performance?

No wonder Guyuan offered to tutor him, she thought.

“ struggles with essays,” interjected. “Although she only lost five points this time, that was an exceptional performance. Her middle school exam score in writing was 42 out of 60. On the other hand, Gu Lu writes exceptionally well.”

To put it bluntly… Qi Caiwei’s mother had envisioned either or Li Guyuan as the ideal seatmate for her daughter. The former ranked first overall in the class, while the latter excelled in .

“Exceptionally well?” Qi Caiwei’s mother asked, skepticism lacing her tone.

“There are : the , the , and the . The latter is open to both high school and college students.”

Ms. Gao continued, “Gu Lu advanced easily into the finals of the Bingxin Cup but couldn’t attend due to scheduling conflicts. Meanwhile, he won the national first prize in the Ye Shengtao Cup, earning him direct admission to our school.”

“No.8 High School awards various scholarships based on talent achievements. For instance, holds the highest athletic scholarship for setting a .” Ms. Gao used examples from the class to illustrate.

She didn’t mention that Gu Lu had been the first-ever recipient of the national first prize in the Ye Shengtao Cup—perhaps because she felt it might reflect poorly on Chongqing’s education system.

“And Gu Lu also received the full amount for artistic talent,” Ms. Gao concluded.

Her words sparked murmurs among the parents. All eyes turned toward Gu Lu, the lone student attending his own parent-teacher meeting. Who would’ve guessed this quiet boy harbored such impressive accomplishments?

From Ms. Gao’s explanation, it seemed Gu Lu could have won either competition if not for scheduling conflicts. Winning national awards appeared as effortless for him as drinking water.

“If Qi Caiwei’s parent still has concerns about the seating arrangement, I can adjust accordingly,” Ms. Gao said diplomatically. “There are many students in the class who need encouragement to improve their writing skills.”

Her tone carried a subtle rebuke, signaling her disapproval of the overbearing attitude displayed earlier.

“No, no, you’ve worked hard, Ms. Gao,” Qi Caiwei’s mother quickly backtracked, smiling at Gu Lu beside her—an implicit apology and olive branch extended to the young man.

Had it been Qi Caiwei herself, she might have responded immediately. But Gu Lu simply pretended not to notice, tilting his head slightly away, leaving only half a profile visible.

Gu Lu understood the intentions behind Qi Caiwei’s mother’s actions, but understanding didn’t mean he had to indulge her behavior. He wouldn’t bend just to smooth things over.

With the seating issue resolved, no other parents raised questions—not even Lu Yi’s father, who seemed tempted but ultimately held back after witnessing the collective silence.

Next, Ms. Gao addressed another topic: study habits. This discussion primarily targeted day students, as boarding students adhered to a strict lights-out policy. She advised commuting students not to stay up late, warning that insufficient sleep would lead to drowsiness during lessons.

Of course, with the mountain of homework assigned daily, students who failed to complete tasks during breaks or evening study sessions often found themselves burning the midnight oil. Most parents dismissed complaints about workload, reasoning that if others managed to finish, why couldn’t their children? It made sense, in a way…

Methodically ticking off each agenda item, Ms. Gao demonstrated her meticulous preparation. Such was her style—thorough behind the scenes, calm and composed in execution.

“That covers most of my points. I’ll leave the rest of the time to subject teachers. Gu Lu, could you go fetch Mr. Lu from Class 5?” she instructed. Parent-teacher meetings always included consultations with individual instructors, though the homeroom teacher typically took up the bulk of the session.

“No problem.” Gu Lu stood and exited the classroom.

Mathematics teacher Mr. Lu taught two classes, and since all grade levels were holding concurrent meetings, timing had to be staggered.

Why not split sessions by class? Gu Lu speculated it might stem from security concerns, as schools generally restricted outsiders’ access, making coordinated entry more complicated.

“Ms. Gao, may I ask something? Has Tian Xiao stopped twirling pens at school?” Tian Xiao’s mother seized the brief pause to inquire.

“Yes, he has,” Ms. Gao replied.

“That’s good. At home, he does nothing but lock himself in his room spinning objects endlessly, never focusing on anything productive,” the mother sighed.

Outside the classroom, groups of students waited anxiously.

“What’s happening inside?” “Did Ms. Gao complain about us?” “Is my mom saying weird stuff again?” “Man, attending your own parent-teacher meeting feels awesome…”

The students split into two camps: those fretting over potential criticism and those using the opportunity to goof off—a last hurrah before facing reality. Even top performers worried about what teachers might say.

“So, what’s going on? You’re looking at a guy solving problems at their root. Envious yet?” Gu Lu quipped briefly before slipping through the crowd and jogging toward Class 5 to summon Mr. Lu.

Inside, Mr. Lu lectured on mathematical thinking: “Never stop practicing. There’s no shortcut in math; practice makes perfect. Memorization alone won’t cut it—you must apply concepts flexibly.”

Though seemingly contradictory, his advice boiled down to one mantra: “Master formulas, then grind problems.”

“Alright, I’ll be right there,” Mr. Lu assured.

Moments later, Mr. Lu followed Gu Lu back to Class 10.

The atmosphere remained congenial throughout the ’s inaugural parent-teacher meeting, likely due to its unique nature.

Afterward came the private discussions between students and their families.

“Why didn’t you change clothes before coming here? Showing up like this shows disrespect to the teachers and other parents,” Dou Ke scolded softly, frustration barely concealed beneath his controlled tone.

…

Gu Lu hurried away. Eavesdropping wasn’t his habit, nor did he care for such dramas.

“At school, tread carefully. We’re outsiders here. Don’t stir trouble—if something happens, no one will stand up for us,” Lu Yi’s parents imparted their life wisdom.

Several parents approached Gu Lu afterward: “Could you help tutor our kid? His writing needs work.” “Come visit sometime—I see you’re close with Lü Ping.” “Wow, winning all three major essay contests sounds fun and easy when you’re talented like you!”

By the end of the meeting, Gu Lu’s reputation among the parents soared significantly.

Back home, Gu Lu opened his laptop and reread the editor’s email, sinking into contemplation. He’d submitted and Park of Yesterday to . While the brilliance of the latter story was undeniable, Gu Lu believed the former rivaled even the best works of 2005 according to his standards.

Were the characters and plot logic truly lacking?

It wasn’t unusual for selected entries to require refinement, but Moon Stone and Park of Yesterday were driven by compelling narratives. Weak character development could be forgiven—but flawed storytelling? That baffled Gu Lu.

“I only revised minor details in both stories, leaving the core intact.”

If rejected, two possibilities arose: First, perhaps the pieces weren’t up to Sprout’s lofty standards—but Gu Lu doubted that.

Second, maybe the issue lay with the author—but whom had he offended?

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