Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C118

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Chapter 118: Very, Very Strange!

The story’s protagonist was consumed by guilt toward his mother. He hadn’t even returned for her funeral because his wife was seriously ill.

"Interesting character development—full of twists and emotional depth," muttered to himself.

At first, he thought the story leaned into the , but then things took a turn. The protagonist spotted his mother again in the same familiar spot on the opposite side of the light rail—the seventh-floor window of a small building, where she stared at him with visible resentment.

Then, a passenger in the same car whispered in horror: “Why is Meifang standing there?”

Others around him reacted the same way.

“Is this a ghost train? A special carriage that shows you the person you feel most guilty about?” Deputy Chief Editor Qu mused. It was a habit of his—after reading widely, he couldn't help speculating what might come next.

And yet, surprised him again and again. The ending hit hard, and it wasn’t what he expected at all.

“This writer really knows how to move an audience,” he said, tapping his foot rhythmically. He always did when moved by a good read. If only his desk weren’t bolted to the floor, it might have followed suit.

“Moon Stone is easily the most refreshingly original story I’ve read this year.”

He sipped his coffee, the bitterness helping to ground him. Then, eager to continue, he turned to the second piece: . He had already been impressed by the storytelling in Moon Stone, so now he was curious to see what else could do.

“Wait, I take back my previous statement—Park of Yesterday is the most refreshingly original work I’ve seen this year.”

Who was this mysterious author? Deputy Chief Editor Qu quickly checked the name attached to the submission.

Gu Lu. A name that sounded faintly familiar.

“Still, these two stories—one about a dead mother, one about a dead father. This author has guts. But who dies in the story isn’t important; what matters is the quality.”

He first forwarded the email, then got up and headed to the ’s office. of held many titles, including—but not limited to—Deputy Director of the Youth Publishing Group and Secretary of the .

He was usually very busy, and people from the editorial department wouldn’t disturb him unless it was something serious. But Deputy Chief Editor Qu was different—an old hand, and someone with enough standing to walk in unannounced.

“Editor-in-Chief, I have something urgent!”

“Not happy with the break room coffee again, ?” Editor-in-Chief Lin didn’t even look up—he paused his pen just slightly at the sound of his old colleague’s voice.

“No complaints for now,” Deputy Chief Editor Qu replied.

Lin continued, “Then is it the snacks that aren’t to your taste?”

It was true that Old Qu often dropped by the editor-in-chief’s office over such trivial matters, but today was different—he was here on real business.

“Editor-in-Chief,” he said, “we’ve got a very... strange writer on our hands.”

Lin paused his pen and looked up. Though Qu often acted like a bit of a jokester, his editorial instincts were sharp. When he used words like “very strange,” it usually meant either something extremely abstract or something brilliant.

“Where’s the work? Send it over—Let me take a look. It’s been a long time since you’ve said something like that.”

---

Tuesday marked two weeks until the school anniversary and three weeks until the release of . Online discussions about "," had quieted down, which was normal for a writer—fame from a hit, then a return to quiet creativity.

Back at school, however, Gu Lu was still a relatively unknown figure. He’d only been there a little over a month and hadn’t yet become a campus legend. All it needed was one big event.

“What do you think? Xiao Gu?” asked , the drama advisor.

Tension hung thick in the air as club members—, , and among others—watched anxiously as Gu Lu stepped forward. As the scriptwriter, his feedback would determine the fate of their days of hard work.

For student theater—not a performance arts major—acting wasn’t the focus. The main goal was clear delivery of lines and effective use of movement to convey the plot.

“The acting is fine,” Gu Lu said, “but your set design feels incomplete.”

Wan Bai nodded. “Please go on.”

“I think we should build a backdrop representing tall grass,” Gu Lu suggested. “Earlier, we discussed using a larger ball prop to make sure the audience in the back can see it clearly.”

“If the audience sees the ball disappear, then the act of retrieving it must also be shown clearly,” he added.

Wu Du considered this carefully before agreeing. “That makes sense. Otherwise, the action will seem out of nowhere.”

“So we’ll need more rehearsal time,” Wan Bai said. “We need to get the timing right for throwing the ball behind the backdrop.”

“Our venue is the school auditorium,” Wu Du explained. “The distance between the stage and the audience is quite large. Our expressions won’t be visible, so we rely heavily on exaggerated movements.”

The suggestion was logical, especially coming from Gu Lu. Soon, everyone agreed to incorporate the new element.

No wonder people love being directors—it takes just one line to set a whole team in motion. And Gu Lu wasn’t trying to mess with anyone. He simply gave honest feedback after watching the entire performance.

After the rehearsal ended, Gu Lu prepared to leave.

“Should we invite Gu Lu on stage during our final bow?” Zhang Liru asked. She believed the biggest contributor deserved recognition.

“If it goes well, definitely,” Wu Du replied, implying otherwise if they messed up.

“We’ll make it happen!” the vowed together. “Better than ! We’ll nail the lines!”

Li Guyuan, full of energy, shouted, “We’ll be the most popular event on campus!”

The rest of the club glanced at each other. Well, maybe not the most popular—there was still the dance club to contend with.

With permission from the teacher, the club had skipped lunch for rehearsals. After all, the school anniversary was one of ’s key promotional events, and any group performing was given top priority.

But Gu Lu had to eat. Just as he was about to walk away, someone caught up to him.

“Gu Lu, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Wan Bai said. “Do you have any sort of rough image in mind for in the story? We’re hoping to make the background setting a bit more detailed.”

Any idea what it looked like? Of course not. But Gu Lu started talking anyway, describing it based on the in the memory of old Gu Lu.

“Okay, got it, Thank you,” Wan Bai said as he jotted it down.

“That notebook looks familiar,” Gu Lu remarked.

“It’s Li Guyuan’s. I borrowed it,” Wan Bai replied.

Ah, now it made sense. “You really care about the club,” Gu Lu said. “I remember during recruitment day, when you forgot to distribute the handbook, it was you who went class by class to hand them out.”

“I don’t want to leave any regrets,” Wan Bai said. “There are many talented new members in the club, like Li Guyuan—he wants to do something big.”

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