Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C132

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Chapter 132: The Best Possible Outcome!

The news broadcast had caused quite a stir, and the ripple effects were far from positive. After all, most people were ordinary citizens who, at some point in their lives, had helped strangers. The idea of being falsely accused struck a deep chord with many.

The old man who had tried to extort was named , born on —a name that now seemed like an insult. In his youth, he had been reckless; in old age, he had become shameless enough to accuse a young girl.

What about students? What about police officers? In the end, they still needed to pay him even if they were innocent.

Before long, Duan Jianjun’s brief moment of triumph crumbled under a barrage of angry calls from his children, who had seen the news.

"What are you doing? Do you realize our entire family is now infamous? Do you want your grandson bullied at school?"

"My superior called me in for a talk today. Are you trying to ruin my career?"

"Fix this mess immediately!"

...

Back home, had barely turned on his computer when he was bombarded with messages from his editor.

"There's a special reader letter, Mr. Gu—you must see it," said , the editor of . "I've already emailed you a scanned copy, and the original is on its way via courier."

What could be so special about this letter? Gu Lu had been serializing in Chronicles of Mystery for three issues and received over twenty reader letters, none of which had excited the corresponding editor as much as this one.

It seemed short stories didn’t attract much attention. Before starting his serialized novel, Gu Lu had published numerous short pieces without receiving any fan mail. Back in the golden age of print literature (the '80s and '90s), reader letters came by the sackful.

Under Han Cang's urging, Gu Lu opened the email:

"[Dear Author, I am a reader from the UK who stumbled upon ...]"

"A foreign reader? That’s surprising—do we even have an English version of Mr. Holmes?" Gu Lu couldn’t contain his disbelief.

"We only have the Chinese version, but , the sender, is an exchange student between and the . Her Chinese is excellent," Han Cang explained. "Our editorial department is confident she’s British."

"Mr. Gu, you haven’t even released an English edition yet, and already you’ve attracted foreign readers!" Han Cang beamed with pride. "After all these years, our magazine has rarely reached beyond Japan. With just half a book serialized, you’ve made it to Europe!"

Given ’ immense popularity in Britain—both in this world and the parallel one—it was hardly surprising. After all, even as a fictional character, Holmes had been granted honorary membership in the , while his creator, , was knighted in recognition of his literary achievements.

In the parallel world, Gu Lu’s Mr. Holmes was widely regarded by fans as one of the finest Holmes pastiches—and deservedly so. Alongside , it was often hailed as one of the two brightest gems of the post–Conan Doyle era.

"Our magazine has Japanese readers too?" Gu Lu asked curiously.

"Yes, thanks to our collaborations with . We often publish Japanese mysteries, attracting Japanese expatriates working here," Han Cang explained.

Gu Lu was astonished to learn that Chronicles of Mystery actually secured copyrights for international works.

"Mr. Gu, forget all that—just read the rest of the letter and tell me what you think," Han Cang pressed.

The letter revealed that Isabella wished to translate Gu Lu’s work and share it on a British mystery forum called .

"Thank you, Editor Han, for letting me know. I’ll express my gratitude to Isabella, but I’ll politely decline her request," Gu Lu replied after reading the letter.

"What? Translation and online sharing can boost your popularity abroad! When the time comes, we could release an English edition," Han Cang argued.

"The idea sounds good, but it’s not practical. Isabella isn’t a professional translator. Knowing two languages doesn’t equate to translation skills. Besides, my work hasn’t gained enough traction in Europe yet. Granting permission now would do more harm than good," Gu Lu reasoned.

Han Cang fell silent. He realized Gu Lu was right—the nature of forums like Window of Reasoning made them unsuitable for building meaningful exposure. Even domestic forums like , despite their traffic, hadn’t produced notable authors or books.

No wonder someone so young could write such compelling stories while he, a seasoned editor, merely cheered from the sidelines. At twenty-something, he felt less composed than a high schooler.

"Editor Han, there’s something else I need your help with," Gu Lu said. "Could our magazine introduce some of my short stories to Japan? I think a few might suit their style."

"Come to think of it, your might really fit into their eccentric tastes," Han Cang mused. "But don’t get your hopes up, Mr. Gu. Domestic mysteries still lag behind international standards. Our exchanges with Giallo and Faust are mostly imports; we haven’t exported anything in years."

"I understand. Worth a shot anyway," Gu Lu shrugged.

If unsuccessful, he’d find another opportunity. Books required translation, and it was implausible for a high schooler to write fluently in Japanese—an idea too fantastical to entertain.

---

Wednesday passed, and Thursday arrived. No. 8 High School held club activities on Wednesday afternoons, while Third High scheduled them for the last two periods on Thursdays.

Third High boasted diverse clubs: traditional music ensembles, book clubs, radio stations, badminton teams, and more. Their vibrant extracurricular life resembled private elite schools rather than public institutions. Still, top-tier schools in Chongqing should arguably outshine private ones.

"Zhao Juan, help me finish my homework—I won’t scam you," teased a classmate sarcastically.

"Haha, Zhao Juan, since you’re so helpful, how about doing today’s cleaning duty for me?"

Classmates who’d seen the news couldn’t resist ribbing her. Their words weren’t malicious—they were teasing—but to Zhao Juan, they stung deeply.

"Is this fun? Go clean the blackboard if you’re bored," Zhao Juan snapped coldly.

Known for her gentle demeanor, Zhao Juan rarely spoke sharply. Her sudden frostiness silenced the room. One boy regretted his joke but hesitated to apologize, unwilling to lose face.

Close friends tried to comfort her, but the classroom atmosphere remained tense.

Despite the teasing, Zhao Juan wasn’t as upset as she appeared. Two days after the broadcast, several witnesses—including office workers, elders, and students—had come forward. Fearing escalation, Duan Jianjun quickly recanted, claiming he’d misremembered and wasn’t hit. He even withdrew his demand for compensation.

But Zhao Juan’s mother refused to let it go. With ample evidence, she insisted on suing Duan for extortion. It wasn’t about money—it was about principle.

At home, Zhao Juan cried quietly. She felt her careless actions had lowered Chongqing’s moral standards. Why did good people always lose to villains? Though she was the victim, she blamed herself.

Her self-reproach lingered until the afternoon, when soft music should have played over the intercom during club activities. Instead, an announcement blared:

"Respected teachers and dear students, we have exciting news to share. Zhao Juan from Class 7, Grade 10, exemplifies dedication in her studies and kindness in daily life. Outside school, she actively helps others and participates in community activities. To commend her exemplary behavior, the awards Zhao Juan the title of ‘Outstanding Youth League Member.’ Congratulations to Zhao Juan!"

Such honors were typically announced around Youth Day, but exceptional cases warranted immediate recognition. Gu Lu’s submission of Zhao Juan’s deeds had clearly paid off, surpassing even his own pending accolades.

Amidst the lengthy speech, four words stood out: willingness to help others. Students across Third High were stunned. Had Zhao Juan turned misfortune into fortune?

"Is this because of the incident—or something else?" Zhao Juan wondered aloud, leaning toward the latter explanation.

"Stop daydreaming—go collect your award certificate," her homeroom teacher reminded her gently.

"Thank you, Teacher," Zhao Juan replied, leaving the classroom.

Her recognition would be covered by and other official media—an endorsement of her good deed. This was precisely what Gu Lu had worked tirelessly to achieve over the past week. Whether effective or not, it was certainly a better outcome than the back on Earth.

After collecting her certificate from the broadcasting room, Zhao Juan retrieved her phone from her uniform’s "inner pocket"—a makeshift compartment created by altering the lining to hide contraband devices prohibited in elite high schools.

"Thank you—" Zhao Juan typed repeatedly, deleting each attempt. Words seemed inadequate.

Seeking reporters for and securing this award hadn’t been easy—even for a famous writer like Gu Lu.

"I cried very little this time... maybe only once!" After erasing her draft seven or eight times, Zhao Juan finally sent the message. Recalling Gu Lu’s comment in the yearbook, she added meaningfully: "I guess I’ve improved."

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