Otaku Translation: Literary Genius: This Kid Was Born Smart C151 Part 1

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Chapter 151: The Sci-Fi Short Story Strikes! Part 1

“Do you all still go to school? I don’t even bother stepping foot into the classroom,” interjected when Wang Junjie bragged about his unruly behavior in class.

“Our vocational school teachers are nuts—they take attendance every single day,” Wang Junjie explained, defending himself against accusations of cowardice.

“We have to attend too, but who cares? Just get someone else to call your name,” Fan Xiaotian said dismissively.

While some students talked about clubs, others gossiped about high school romances or boasted about their rebellious antics. Unsurprisingly, Fan Xiaotian, who rarely attended class, became the center of attention.

“You’re impressive—living life on your own terms. Where are you hanging out these days?” Chen Xue draped her arm over Fan Xiaotian without hesitation.

“This is nothing. During National Day, we even went on strike because they cut our holiday short. By the way, my school has tons of pretty girls…” Fan Xiaotian continued.

Reactions among the classmates varied. Some were envious, given the academic pressure and competition in high school, while others rolled their eyes.

Let’s see how long you stay smug after a few more years, one student thought privately. High school had changed everyone; the unity they once shared was gone.

Fan Xiaotian used to be too shy to speak up around unfamiliar people, but now he spoke confidently, even exaggerating his stories. When Chen Xue casually threw her arm around him, his face stiffened with obvious embarrassment—a detail noticed immediately.

[The Pinnacle of Youthful Campus Fiction] [Bringing the Stage into the City] [The Author’s Only Masterpiece]

“What is this?” Gu Lu wondered. His mind immediately jumped to teen melodramas like or Our Bloom of Youth. But soon, he realized those comparisons didn’t fit. This wasn’t a pinnacle of youth fiction—it was something grander. Bringing the stage into the city? That was ambitious. Few domestic works achieved such scale.

Take, for example, the replica bronze gates built at for , which brought the story to life. But a campus setting achieving that level of spectacle? Impossible.

Gu Lu’s extensive reading experience kicked in. Could it be Flipped by ? It was the author’s only notable work, adapted into a film. Did it meet the criteria of bringing the stage into the city?

His train of thought was interrupted as Chen Xue, Wang Junjie, and Fan Xiaotian’s loud voices echoed through the park, reminiscent of Lü Ping’s boisterousness during the start of the school year.

In quieter corners—

“Is fun?” Zhao Juan asked Zhou Lin.

“It’s great. We recently competed against Bashu High School and won,” Zhou Lin explained, detailing how the team prepared materials. Her expression shifted from pride to dissatisfaction as she recalled Gu Lu missing the event despite promising to attend.

“What about you? Third High must have clubs too, right?” Zhou Lin asked.

Third High, along with First High, Bashu, and No. 8 High, were Chongqing’s top four schools, all generously funded for extracurricular activities.

“I mostly volunteer. Plus, I’m struggling with math, so I don’t have time for clubs,” Zhao Juan admitted.

During club activity hours on Thursdays, she usually found a quiet spot to solve practice problems. For science subjects, rote memorization and problem-solving were effective strategies.

“What kind of volunteering?” Zhou Lin inquired.

“The Qing River Cleanup Project—picking up trash along the riverbank,” Zhao Juan replied.

“That sounds meaningful,” Zhou Lin said.

“But awareness needs improvement. Many visitors leave trash behind without thinking,” Zhao Juan added.

“True. Once I become Secretary-General of Chongqing’s Model UN, I’ll propose a topic: Is preventive education more important than cleanup efforts? Either way, it’ll raise awareness,” Zhou Lin suggested.

“In that case, you better work hard so we can benefit too,” Zhao Juan joked.

The inaugural Class 5 reunion lacked a formal dinner. Gu Lu initially planned to treat everyone, budgeting around 400 yuan per table for three tables—enough for twenty-plus attendees. With over a thousand yuan, it wouldn’t strain his finances, and showing off a bit wouldn’t hurt either.

But he held back. If he wanted a second reunion, it was best not to overshadow others.

As the sun dipped lower, classmates gradually dispersed, heading home. By 4 PM, Zhang Yudong announced his departure.

First, he posed for a photo with Gu Lu. Then, turning to the group, he declared, “Come on, let’s take a picture of the Park Alliance!”

With one member missing, the alliance completed its group photo!

Under the fading sunlight, Dockside Park filled with elderly visitors. In , Gu Lu had unconsciously modeled the fictional Tianchen Park after Dockside Park. Other landmarks like Ockmouth Hill, Cui Garden, and Ganghua Street also appeared in his short stories. Who knew if, years later, Dockside District might become a literary hotspot?

Gu Lu and Chen Na were the last to leave. While Gu Lu lingered to watch old classmates depart, Chen Na, the organizer, ensured everyone got home safely.

[Bubblegum Chewer (Chen Na): Let me know when you’re home.]

[UnderPlumTree (Wang Han): Home.]

[DripDropMindFullOfBooks (Xie Fangqi): Haha, Sister Nana is still our Class Monitor.]

[SnowflakeBridge (Chen Xue): On the bus now. Speaking of which, I forgot to ask Gu Lu for an autograph.]

Chen Na kept checking her phone as classmates frequently updated their QQ names and avatars, sometimes changing them more often than their clothes.

For reasons unknown, Gu Lu hadn’t spoken much with Chen Xue, yet her impression lingered vividly. Independent and fiery-tempered, she embodied both childish immaturity and pragmatic realism, always prioritizing money.

If memory served, Chen Xue hadn’t planned to attend the graduation banquet until Zhang Yudong covered her fee.

Why did she leave such a strong impression? Perhaps because she straddled the line between maturity and naivety.

At her birthday party last year, her grandmother revealed how Chen Xue took charge whenever family issues arose. She cared for her grandmother’s well-being, demonstrating responsibility. Yet, she neglected studies, failing to pass the high school entrance exam—an act of irresponsibility.

This contradiction made her frustrating to understand. Gu Lu pondered silently.

“Fewer classmates showed up than expected. So many promised to come,” Chen Na lamented.

“It’s already impressive. Organizing reunions offers no tangible rewards—it’s all effort,” Gu Lu consoled her.

“My teacher says I’ve got great organizational skills—it’s good practice,” Chen Na smiled. “Any suggestions for improvement?”

Huh? Why the sudden solicitation of advice? Seeing Chen Na’s earnest expression, Gu Lu sobered up.

After careful consideration, he offered, “Overall, it was excellent. However, designating an emergency contact would help.”

“Contacting twenty people can get chaotic, especially if you’re busy picking someone up and miss calls. Assign an early arrival as the backup contact. That way, if you’re unreachable, others can step in.”

“Makes sense,” Chen Na nodded, appreciating the tip.

“Are you part of the student council in high school?”

“No, high school councils are too… trivial. I’ll wait till college.”

They chatted as Chen Na accompanied Gu Lu to the station…

From Cui Garden Station to Jiafu Garden stretched 17 kilometers, while from Chongqing to Harbin spanned over 3,000 kilometers. Beyond Harbin, another event tied to Gu Lu unfolded.

“Dad, why won’t you publish my short story collection? My pieces are publication-worthy!” Wang Ban protested.

His father, Deputy Director Wang of New Youth Publishing, remained calm. “Your work is indeed publishable. But why do you want a collection?”

Isn’t it obvious? To publish a book! Wang Ban stared blankly at his father.

“We’re not short on cash, so earning money isn’t the goal,” Director Wang explained. “Publishing serves two purposes: summarizing your writing journey or showcasing your finest work. Which applies to you?”

“Uh…” Wang Ban hesitated. He couldn’t admit wanting to publish purely for prestige after graduating college.

“If you don’t know why, it’s just creating unnecessary waste,” Director Wang said.

Minutes passed, and Wang Ban struggled to refute. Finally, he conceded, “I think I’m satisfied with my selected stories.”

“Really?” Director Wang held up a manuscript titled Park of Yesterday. “This is Gu Lu’s draft collection. Do you know him?”

“No,” Wang Ban shook his head.

Director Wang reminded him, “The Gu Lu of fame.”

“Oh, right! That recent sensation. I read it—it’s decent,” Wang Ban quickly recovered.

The book was more famous than its author.

“He’s only sixteen, a tenth-grader. If your collection surpasses his, I’ll publish yours. Deal?” Director Wang baited.

He ranked these twelve stories among the top five short story collections published domestically in the past five years.

Too good to be true? Knowing his father’s cunning nature, Wang Ban suspected ulterior motives.

“Is Park of Yesterday solely written by Gu Lu? Not co-authored?” Wang Ban questioned.

“Of course not! Would I lie to you?” Director Wang assured him. “So, want to give it a try?”

At twenty-five, Wang Ban worked full-time but wrote part-time, dedicating thirteen years to the craft. With a publishing legacy from his grandfather, he felt confident challenging a high schooler.

“Scared? Understandable. Gu Lu is a prodigy…” Director Wang remarked matter-of-factly.

“What nonsense! What nonsense!” Wang Ban retorted. “I’ll take the bet! Why not? My only concern is subjective judgment—you might favor him unfairly.”

“Let Aunt Zhang judge. Fair enough?” Director Wang proposed.

Aunt Zhang—renowned writer Zhang Kangkang—was a respected figure in Northeast literature, known for works like The City’s Markers, included in elementary textbooks.

“Deal,” Wang Ban agreed. “Send my collection to Aunt Zhang.”

“You should read this first,” Director Wang handed over Park of Yesterday’s draft.

Confident, Wang Ban retreated to another room to read.

His confidence stemmed from having read The Little Prince. Though marketed as a fairy tale, it leaned closer to philosophy—a lighter version of .

Zarathustra criticized sympathizers, missionaries, moralists, scholars, and prophets harshly. Similarly, The Little Prince critiqued various characters encountered on different planets—but subtly, without explicit condemnation.

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