Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C131

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Chapter 131: : Go Ahead and Make It Happen

"Come over, come over—I’ve got some news for you."

Since was no longer ’s desk mate, their interactions had dwindled. But whenever Tian Xiao heard something juicy, he’d make sure to share it with Gu Lu.

Every class had its own "Mr. Know-It-All," but Tian Xiao wasn’t like from middle school, who had connections in every grade. Tian Xiao relied on his sharp ears during lunch breaks in the noisy cafeteria, picking up scraps of gossip while spinning pens—a skill that served him well.

"Our class monitor quit the dance club," Tian Xiao announced.

"Is this confirmed?" Gu Lu asked skeptically. After all, had been riding high since the school anniversary celebration and was considered a rising star in the dance team. Why would she leave?

"It’s true, though I don’t know the reason," Tian Xiao continued. "Also, apparently our school has just formed a new club—rumor is, it’s run by a 10th grader. Beyond that, I don’t have details."

"But logically speaking," Tian Xiao added confidently, "there’s no way a high school freshman could outshine you, Gu Lu. You’re not even trying too hard, right? So how can anyone else be that impressive?"

"I think your analysis makes sense," Gu Lu said, surprised at how quickly rumors spread. He and Guyuan had only gotten approval for their sub-club less than a week ago.

In high school, there were three types of big news: clubs, romances, and family backgrounds. The next tidbit Tian Xiao shared fell into the second category—someone from the 11th grade had confessed to Qi Caiwei. Gu Lu had zero interest in teenage drama, so he excused himself halfway through the conversation.

---

At noon, a brief two-person meeting took place.

After much deliberation between the founder-editor-in-chief and deputy editor-in-chief, the name of the club was finalized: . A play on words, it sounded like "No. 8 High School," but if puns weren’t appreciated, the title also symbolized the seeds of .

The name cleverly highlighted the scope of submissions:

- Four types of articles: narrative, expository, argumentative, and applied writing.

- Four literary genres: prose, poetry, drama, and essays.

"...Gu Lu, you always call me bad at naming things, but isn’t this half as awkward as what you came up with?" Li Guyuan teased bluntly. "Why not ‘’ instead?"

Gu Lu’s eyes widened as he defended the meaning behind “Eight Seeds” and the thematic framework, causing Guyuan to burst into laughter. The classroom buzzed with lighthearted energy.

"Chief Editor, please review these manuscripts!" Li Guyuan turned serious, pulling out two or three pieces. "These are my rejected submissions to . Do you think they’d work for Eight Seeds?"

"I’ll give them a thorough read," Gu Lu promised. "I’ve been thinking about our publication’s development strategy."

Li Guyuan leaned in eagerly.

"Since we can’t recruit new members until next year, let’s quietly build momentum and then unveil everything when the time comes. It will definitely surprise everyone." Gu Lu explained.

"Lying low for now works," Li Guyuan agreed. "But how do we shock the entire school?"

"Every publication needs a unique selling point," Gu Lu said. "I plan to invite experienced editors to share insights. For aspiring writers, Eight Seeds will become indispensable."

Though had launched earlier this year, blogging platforms like still dominated online spaces. There was virtually no resource teaching teenagers how to write or submit manuscripts. Gu Lu’s connections with professional editors gave him an edge.

"That actually sounds brilliant!" Li Guyuan’s eyes lit up. Even though he’d already published four pieces (three in , one in Sprout), he admitted he’d love expert guidance.

"As for generating content, I’ve thought of something, but I can’t reveal it yet," Gu Lu hinted.

"In that case, I will reach out to the literary club at ,” Li Guyuan said. “I have a middle school classmate there—I’ll start by opening that channel first.”

Back in middle school, Li Guyuan was already known for his essays, once hailed as one of Fengmingshan Middle School’s “Four Talents.”

“As for other clubs in No.1 High and , I also have some connections, so I can help gather information,” Li Guyuan continued. “But beyond those schools, I won’t have much to work with.”

Clubs as active and well-organized as these could only be found in Chongqing’s top schools. As the deputy editor of the school magazine, Li Guyuan was doing everything within his power to help.

---

Later that afternoon, Gu Lu found himself summoned to the principal’s office—not under duress this time, but as the main player.

To be honest, Gu Lu had only recently begun to grasp the extent of his influence in Chongqing. No wonder people boasted about the elevated status of writers—it truly held weight.

Waiting in the principal’s office was Qi, head of the and . This visit carried some pressure; Gu Lu hadn’t expected such a swift response after submitting materials just two days prior.

The Youth League Committee operated at bureau level, while Director Qi held a rank equivalent to key high school principals. Their attention stemmed from two factors:

First, Gu Lu’s reputation—he was already a prominent figure within the committee’s focus group. Notably, fell under its jurisdiction, explaining why Gu Lu had been interviewed repeatedly.

Second, Principal Liu’s backing. Observe Liu’s calm demeanor—it practically screamed, "Go ahead, stir up something big and bring fame to No. 8 High School!"

"I reviewed Gu Lu’s exemplary deeds submission," Qi began. "The line ‘Good deeds deserve rewards, not ridicule’ carries hidden meaning."

"If people hear comments like, ‘Look at this busybody, almost got scammed,’ they might never dare to help again," Gu Lu replied.

His words weren’t sharp but cut deep. Qi’s smile faded slightly.

Gu Lu then elaborated on ’s initiative—"A modern youth virtual contract..."

Qi’s eyes sparkled. If implemented widely, it might transform societal attitudes among young people.

"This idea shouldn’t die prematurely," Qi declared. "If credible witnesses emerge from this incident, the Youth League Committee will approve the material in principle."

Between school and club responsibilities, Gu Lu juggled both with precision. Despite his occasional gruffness, his actions spoke louder than words—he believed good deeds should be rewarded.

---

Meanwhile, outside school walls, events unfolded steadily.

" brings news closer to everyday life..."

On Tuesday, a segment aired about Zhao Juan, using Gu Lu’s essay The Days Without as a hook. Reporter Ji revisited , appealing for pedestrians who passed by around 1:30 PM last Tuesday, .

The broadcast became dinner-table talk across Chongqing.

"Did you see the news? That poor girl got framed!"

"Who would’ve thought? Even elders in their sixties wouldn’t falsely accuse others without cause."

"Be careful out there. Don’t meddle—just take care of yourself."

"Lucky she knows such a famous guy. Otherwise, she’d be in real trouble."

...

When Zhao Juan’s parents saw the report, the gloom that had hovered over their household lifted somewhat. Though eight thousand yuan wouldn’t bankrupt them, it meant tightening belts for a while.

"Why didn’t you mention having such talented classmates before?" Zhao Juan’s mother said, serving her daughter food.

"What if finding witnesses backfires on his reputation?" Zhao Juan’s father fretted, sharing his daughter’s cautious nature.

Zhao Juan remained silent, tears streaming down her face. Her mother realized too late and rushed to comfort her.

"Don’t cry, sweetheart. With Daily 630’s ratings, surely someone will step forward," her mother reassured.

"We’re all fine now, aren’t we?" her father chimed in.

"Mom, Dad... I messed up," Zhao Juan sobbed.

"Nonsense. Helping others is never wrong. That’s what we taught you," her father insisted. "We’re proud of you."

"The real culprit is that shameless old man. He preys on students! Be more careful next time," her mother emphasized.

Family values shaped children profoundly. In the Zhao household, despite setbacks, Zhao Juan’s parents consistently affirmed her kindness. As her mother put it, "We did nothing wrong. Just protect yourself better moving forward."

Midway through the meal, Zhao Juan’s father received a call. After exchanging glances with his wife, he stepped aside to answer.

Calls interrupting meals were common for grassroots police officers like him. When he returned, his expression brightened.

"Great news! Daily 630 called—they’ve found three witnesses. Preliminary questioning confirms their accounts."

What fantastic news!

"Once we gather enough evidence, we must sue that liar for defamation!" Zhao Juan’s mother declared fervently.

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