Transmigrated as the Movie Star’s Little Good for Nothing - Chapter 8

Stumbling their way through infancy and into toddlerhood…the golden age of one to three…Gu Congjue’s sheer eccentricities and differences began to manifest even further.

“Little Congjue is just too, too, too…too smart!”

Gu Congjue’s kindergarten homeroom teacher was practically vibrating with excitement as she grabbed the hands of the Gu-Xiang couple.

“I mean, sure, he’s a bit on the younger side. He still stumbles when he walks and often needs the teaching assistants to help him out with daily tasks, but in terms of pure intellectual talent, he is hands-down the brightest child in this class!”

Gu Congjue was a “Little Rooster” baby, born in January 2005. Strictly speaking, he should have waited another year to start kindergarten. However, because he was born at the very beginning of the year, waiting would mean he’d be significantly older than his classmates, which felt like a bit of a disadvantage.

Taking that into consideration, the couple sent Congjue to school a year early. When the semester kicked off in September, he was only two and a half years old…noticeably smaller than his three- and three-and-a-half-year-old peers.

But being six months younger didn’t stop Gu Congjue from playing life on cheat mode!

“I have to ask, as parents, did you two put an extraordinary amount of effort into his early childhood education?” the teacher asked, genuinely eager to learn their secrets. “Your boy doesn’t just possess incredible self-care skills; he already has a remarkably complete, mature grasp of logical thinking!”

In a nursery class, children who struggle with basic self-care are a dime a dozen. Wetting the bed, ruining pants, needing help in the restroom, refusing to eat, throwing tantrums…these are entirely normal for this age group.

But Gu Congjue? He was the ultimate anomaly.

“He actually already knows how to write his own name?!”

The teacher handed over a crayon drawing. There, in the bottom right corner, were three large, crooked characters: Gu Congjue.

“If he just had a bit more physical strength to steady the crayon, I’m certain his handwriting would be absolutely immaculate!”

The teacher was busy marveling at the Chinese characters, but Gu Pingyue and Xiang Yuyan’s eyes were glued to the drawing itself.

“Ah… is this… his ‘masterpiece’ from art class?” Xiang Yuyan asked, his hand trembling slightly as he took the paper. He exchanged a look with Gu Pingyue before asking very tentatively, “This looks exactly like a bunch of chaotic chicken scratches, doesn’t it?”

Xiang Yuyan’s heart sank a little. He couldn’t help but overthink it. Gu Pingyue was a second-generation film legacy, and he himself was a vocal arts major from the Central Academy of Drama. Both of them had formally minored in visual and fine arts just to cultivate their aesthetic tastes. Gu Pingyue had even pursued a dual degree and had just graduated with a master’s degree from a prestigious fine arts academy in France six months ago.

With their family background and artistic sensibilities, they were top-tier! How on earth had they raised a son with absolutely zero artistic cells?

“Little Congjue does lack a bit of artistic flair, but what does that matter? He’s brilliant!” The teacher wasn’t done praising him. “He’s only two and a half, yet he can already count from 1 to 50…and he can even do addition and subtraction within the number 10!”

Gu Pingyue’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve tested him on that, Teacher?”

“I have! I tried asking him situational questions, like ‘If you have five apples and take away two, how many are left?’ He gets the answer right every single time!”

“This…” Gu Pingyue frowned slightly. “That’s strange. My partner and I are incredibly busy with work, so we leave his daily care to his nanny…Ms. Yang Cuirong, the lady who usually picks him up and drops him off.”

“Could it be that a professional nanny has special methods and educated him exceptionally well?” the teacher pondered.

“Probably not,” Xiang Yuyan said, shaking his head. “Sister Rong is incredibly experienced when it comes to a child’s diet and daily routine, but her formal education level isn’t very high. Besides, my husband and I focus heavily on well-rounded, stress-free upbringing. We’ve stressed many times that we want him to grow up happy, without any academic pressure.”

“Then the child must simply be naturally gifted!” the teacher concluded with absolute certainty. “It’s true, a child this smart is a rare gem. It doesn’t look like something that can be manufactured by nurture alone. Mr. Gu, Mr. Xiang, you should keep a close eye on him. Who knows? Maybe he’s a little child prodigy reincarnated!”

The teacher offered the thought half-seriously, half-jokingly.

Gu Pingyue and Xiang Yuyan didn’t quite know how to respond. After letting out a couple of polite, awkward laughs, they quickly made an excuse to slip away, heading toward the small auditorium where the nursery class’s recital was being held.

The kindergarten Gu Congjue attended belonged to the nursery department of the Ellington International Bilingual School.

As the most sought-after, all-through private elite school inside Beijing’s Third Ring Road, one could easily imagine how high Ellington’s barrier to entry was. Average celebrity children couldn’t even score a seat; it required a powerhouse wealthy background like the Gu-Xiang family to guarantee a spot.

In other words, the children in Gu Congjue’s class were bound to be the descendants of the upper crust.

“…Don’t touch me.”

Gu Congjue, who was waiting backstage, looked helplessly at the chubby little hand tugging on his collar.

The culprit was a little butterball of a boy. Congjue had forgotten his name; his brain at this developmental stage wasn’t great at retaining names yet. Plus, he had always been terrible with faces anyway, so everyone just looked the same to him.

He only vaguely knew that this chubby kid was in his class and had a bit of a aggressive streak.

The boy had set his sights on the star badge pinned to the left side of Congjue’s chest…a prop the teachers had prepared for their singing performance.

Gu Congjue’s “Little Sunflower Class” was slated to sing the English version of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, so every performing child wore a star badge.

Gu Congjue attempted to defend his badge. He pointed at his own, then pointed at the one pinned to the chubby boy’s chest.

“Mine. Yours.”

Meaning: I have mine, you have yours. Back off.

Unfortunately, because his vocal cords and speech system were still underdeveloped, Gu Congjue couldn’t speak in full, complex sentences. The moment he tried, it would inevitably devolve into slurred baby talk.

After multiple trials and errors over the past months, he had learned to streamline his speech, using the shortest phrases and most basic vocabulary to convey his direct thoughts.

It was a pity, though. He was trying to be reasonable, but the chubby kid didn’t care about reason. After blankly comparing the two badges, the kid aggressively ripped off Gu Congjue’s star anyway, before cheerfully moving on to his next “target.”

Gu Congjue: “…”

My mistake. I actually expected to reason with a three-year-old.

The little prodigy, who had been sitting quietly on his tiny plastic stool, stood up with a sigh to find a teacher to replace his badge.

He patted the teacher’s leg to get her attention, and once she looked down, he flashed his empty lapel.

“Gone.”

He brushed off his pristine, tailored little uniform with a look of mild disgust, then pointed his short, chubby finger across the room to identify the culprit.

“Him. Took it.”

The nursery teacher understood instantly. She quickly scooped Gu Congjue into her arms, cooing softly, “Oh, it’s okay, baby! Teacher will get you a brand new one right away!”

Gu Congjue was well-behaved and perceptive, making him an absolute favorite among the faculty. Seeing his little badge stolen made the teacher genuinely anxious for him.

Gu Congjue, however, remained expressionless. In fact, he desperately wanted to squirm out of her embrace.

You can get the badge, but can you put me down first? He thought.

And please, stop calling me ‘baby.’

Dealing with the dramatic parents he had at home was taxing enough; he didn’t want to have to manage his kindergarten teachers too.

By the time the teacher pinned the new badge on him, it was time to head on stage. Because Congjue was young and physically smaller than the other kids, the teacher placed him right in the front row, directly in front of the microphone.

He instinctively scanned the audience and spotted the Gu-Xiang couple sitting toward the middle-back rows. Gu Pingyue raised an arm to wave from afar, while Xiang Yuyan was furiously snapping pictures with a camera, too distracted to make eye contact.

As expected, they both showed up.

Good. He had one hundred percent confidence in this performance. While the other kids still needed the teachers off-stage to mouth the lyrics to lead them, he had already memorized the words cover to cover.

Didn’t Xiang Yuyan constantly call him a little slacker? Didn’t Gu Pingyue constantly worry that he lacked an artistic soul?

Today’s recital was the perfect opportunity to prove himself. He was going to show his unreliable parents exactly what he was made of: He, Gu Congjue, was a prodigy!

And not just an academic prodigy, but a fully-rounded genius excelling in morals, intellect, physical ability, and art!

Even though he hadn’t dabbled much in the arts in his past life, he was, after all, the offspring of two industry giants in the entertainment world. A tiny kindergarten recital should be a walk in the park, right?

The musical prelude swelled as the stage lights shifted. Gu Congjue awkwardly mimicked the other children by bobbing his head, singing out the English lyrics with absolute poise:

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” “How I wonder what you are…”

The kindergarten parents didn’t have high standards for the performance. As long as their toddlers dressed up beautifully and agreed to stand on stage, they were thrilled!

Consequently, after the curtains fell, plenty of parents brought their kids back on stage to take commemorative photos. The small auditorium was a sea of laughter and cheers, radiating a lighthearted, joyous atmosphere.

Except for…a certain chart-topping, newly debuted king of single sales.

“Is he a robot?!”

Looking at the playback on the video camera, Xiang Yuyan was weeping so intensely he could barely catch his breath, tears streaming down his face.

“How can he sing with absolutely zero emotion? He’s completely tone-deaf!

“Hubby… is our son actually an AI robot?”

Gu Pingyue looked steady on the surface, but he was just as prone to zoning out, possessing a logic system that defied ordinary conventions. He wrapped a comforting arm around his partner’s shoulders, soothing him gently, “Don’t cry, honey. Our boy… he’s still young.”

“He’s hopeless, sob…” Xiang Yuyan cried so hard he looked like he was suffering from oxygen deprivation, swaying slightly as they walked. “You’re an artist too, how can you not understand how vital natural talent is?

“If he hasn’t shown a shred of artistic talent at this age, can we really expect him to suddenly develop it when he grows up? Waaah, hubby, the legacy we worked so hard to build is doomed to have no successor…”

Gu Pingyue was so consumed with comforting his wife and guiding him safely down the stairs that his entire focus was anchored on his partner. He completely forgot that his two-and-a-half-year-old son was also struggling to navigate the steps.

Gu Congjue held onto the wooden balusters of the railing, moving down one tiny, deliberate step at a time.

Reaching the landing, he paused and glanced back, only to realize his unreliable parents had managed to fall half a flight behind him.

Ah.

The tiny toddler stared at the sunlight filtering through the window, shaking his head with a weariness that far exceeded his years, letting out a soft, heavy sigh.

I really want to run away from home.

While the atmosphere on Gu Congjue’s side was relatively peaceful, Shen Yanxing was currently in the middle of a tense, suffocating confrontation.

A confrontation… that would decide the entire trajectory of his future.

“I am taking Yanxing with me.”

Gao Qiumei shielded the three-and-a-half-year-old child behind her back, her posture unyielding as she faced the boy’s biological male pregnant mother.

“Since you don’t intend to keep him anyway, you might as well let me adopt him.”

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