Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C137

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Chapter 137: A Good Book, Indeed!

The promotional strategy of bundling with free gifts wasn’t groundbreaking—especially for children’s stories that had already been adapted into animated series, where such tactics were even more effective.

“Dad, I don’t want The Little Prince anymore. I want this one—,” Xiao Hao changed his mind. While The Little Prince was visually appealing, the giveaway for Ma Xiaotiao was a pencil case—a far more practical prize in his eyes.

To Xiao Hao, wasn’t just a bookstore; it was also a stationery shop.

But no one responded to Xiao Hao’s request. His father, the painter, was engrossed in reading from the middle of The Little Prince, skipping over the earlier parts entirely. He found himself captivated by the story of The Little Prince and the rose.

[“I didn’t understand anything back then! I should have judged her by her actions, not her words. She filled my life with fragrance and color. I shouldn’t have left her….”]

The rose on The Little Prince’s planet didn’t know how to express affection, so she spoke in contradictions, driving him away with her seemingly “coquettish” behavior.

On B-375, that single rose was unique—the only one of its kind in The Little Prince’s eyes. At least, until he arrived at Earth’s rose garden, which housed five thousand identical blooms. Overwhelmed, The Little Prince cried, realizing his rose was no longer special.

This reminded the painter-father of his wife. In real life, there were few sweet nothings exchanged between them—only the daily grind of bills, groceries, and complaints like, “Why waste money on useless things?”

Both he and his wife were ordinary people—just two among billions, unremarkable and mundane.

But as the book said: “It is the time you devoted to your rose that makes her so important.” The Little Prince thought of how he’d tended to his rose—removing pests, shielding her from the wind—and realized that despite the thousands of roses in the garden, his own stood apart.

Because both he and his wife had worked hard for their family, they became irreplaceable within it.

“Is this really a fairy tale?” the painter wondered silently, moved by the wisdom embedded in its pages.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned to Xiao Hao. “Let’s buy it. And I’ll get you another copy of The Little Prince.”

“Huh?” Xiao Hao tilted his head, confused. “No, Dad, I want Ma Xiaotiao. That comes with a pencil case!”

“We’re buying this one—it’s better for you,” the father insisted firmly.

Xiao Hao wasn’t naive. He quickly caught on. “Oh, I see. You just want to read it yourself, right? Dad, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?”

At that moment, the painter happened to flip open the dedication page: All adults were once children, though most have forgotten. Embarrassed but determined, he replied, “I’ve forgotten some things.”

His pride wouldn’t let him admit outright that he, too, had once been a child.

“I’ve forgotten some simple truths that even kids know,” he added softly, feeling his cheeks flush red. For an adult, admitting vulnerability—even in front of their own child—wasn’t easy.

“Fine, whatever,” Xiao Hao sighed dramatically. “Since you’re the boss of the house, we’ll buy The Little Prince.”

With the transaction complete, Xiao Hao picked out two book covers while the painter handed over the cash—a win-win situation.

Why not buy both Ma Xiaotiao and The Little Prince? Cost was the issue. They’d already chosen One Hundred Thousand Whys, and adding another book would push the total into the dozens of yuan range, guaranteeing a lecture from his wife when they returned home.

The painter wasn’t a typical passerby—few parents accompanying their children to buy books would take the time to skim through them. But Xiao Hao was a quintessential example of a modern child: drawn in by flashy book covers and premium packaging, eager to possess something shiny and new.

Though the impact was still modest, sales of The Little Prince were visibly climbing…

---

Meanwhile, Tian Xiao—the king of pen-spinning—was hanging around the library doors, his unusually long fingers gripping the doorframe.

“Which class are you from, and what are you doing here?” The librarian eyed the student suspiciously. Something about Tian Xiao’s demeanor screamed mischief.

“Oh, I just noticed you arranging books and thought I’d offer to help,” Tian Xiao improvised smoothly. “I’m from Class 10, Grade 10.”

“Well, thank you for the offer, but it’s just a hundred books. It won’t take long,” the librarian said, relaxing slightly after hearing Tian Xiao identify himself.

“Are we getting new books in the library?” Tian Xiao asked casually.

“Yes, The Little Prince. Written by a student at our school!” The librarian beamed with pride. “Can you imagine? Still in high school and already publishing a book. What kind of upbringing produces someone like that?”

“Gu Kaizhi’s ‘Gu,’ Lu You’s ‘Lu’—! Look at that name—it’s so cultured!” the librarian exclaimed.

“Gu Lu?!” Tian Xiao blurted loudly, startling the librarian. Realizing his outburst, he quickly explained, “Gu Lu’s in my class! He used to serialize stories in magazines, but I never expected him to publish a whole book!”

“You’re lucky, then,” the librarian chuckled. “Maybe someday you can brag about being classmates with a famous author.”

“Can I borrow this book later?” Tian Xiao asked.

The librarian waved dismissively, adopting an air of youthful enthusiasm despite his age. “Of course! Borrow it and show it to your classmates.”

After completing the borrowing process, the librarian resumed shelving the books without further small talk.

“No wonder Gu Lu has been so quiet since the school anniversary,” Tian Xiao muttered as he walked away. “I thought midterm exams had stifled his creativity, but turns out he was just saving up for this big move!”

But Tian Xiao hadn’t forgotten the real reason for his visit. During lunch, he’d heard a strange rumor and decided to investigate during break.

Taking a few steps forward, he noticed that the previously locked warehouse now bore a sign: [].

Above it hung a vertical warning:

Publication Club Activity Center. Do Not Enter Without Permission. Thank You for Your Cooperation.

“Holy cow, this Publication Club is even cooler than !” Tian Xiao marveled.

On Friday afternoons, the broadcasting room belonged to Time Radio Station, giving them half-ownership of a semi-permanent activity space.

“But even Time Radio Station can’t compare to Gu Lu. This guy’s aiming straight for the moon!” With that, Tian Xiao dashed back to the classroom.

In 2012, was home to three unsolved mysteries: Why did Lu Yi leave the club? Was the principal wearing a wig? And was the school built on an old burial ground? Now, a fourth mystery had emerged: Who founded the Publication Club?!

Come to think of it, every school seemed to have legends about being built on former graveyards.

Back in Class 10, was once again bowing deeply to the corner of the room—a behavior his classmates had long grown accustomed to.

Tian Xiao’s legs weren’t nearly as fast as his hands—he arrived at the classroom door just in time to hear Zeng Ha’er shouting:

“I charged forward with a flying shoulder tackle, followed by a signature attack!”

“Look to me, align with me,” Tian Xiao announced as he entered, drawing the attention of 80% of the class with those eight words.

Waving The Little Prince dramatically, Tian Xiao addressed Gu Lu, his words bouncing along with the book’s movements. “Ta-da! I’ve uncovered a huge secret—Gu Lu has published a book!”

“This is Gu Lu’s first book!” Tian Xiao declared emphatically.

The classroom fell silent for a brief moment before erupting into chaos—

“I always knew our basketball team had the highest cultural standards—way above the literary club.”

“What’s The Little Prince about? Let me see it.”

“A fairy tale? Isn’t that for kids?”

“Don’t act dumb—you’re still a kid.”

“I’m in high school now. We don’t even celebrate Children’s Day anymore. Grow up!”

“If I had half of Gu Lu’s writing skills, my midterm essay wouldn’t have sucked so much.”

…

Seated at his desk, Gu Lu appeared unfazed by the commotion. On the surface, he exuded calm confidence—an unshakable presence amidst the storm. Inside, however, he was grinning ear to ear.

Praise me all you want—I’ll never tire of it.

Being showered with attention and compliments felt good, no matter how many times it happened.

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