Chapter 15: The Enigmatic Man

Ambitious as he was, Zhang Chu had thought writing "Sherlock Holmes: The Consulting Detective" would be a breeze, but as soon as he put pen to paper, he found himself struggling; it seemed he had been far too optimistic. Translating video into prose proved just as challenging—atmosphere, the depiction of cases, and character dialogue all needed to immerse the reader completely.

This wasn’t something he could simply copy word for word, as he had with "The Death of Red Hare."

He sighed. "I suppose it's best to abandon these unrealistic hopes as soon as possible. I just hope I can finish before the deadline."

Zhang Chu had imagined he would finish this thirty-thousand-word short case tonight, but at best, he had written only five or six thousand.

His version of Sherlock Holmes was a man-child—eccentric, willful, with a manner both mechanical and blunt, making him appear quite "childish," lacking the smoothness of adults. Yet this very quality made him an enigma, one that piqued curiosity about what truly went on in his mind.

Perhaps, to a genius, everyone else in the world seemed mediocre. Sherlock grew impatient with those around him who refused to think and had little regard for social niceties.

Zhang Chu wanted to capture Sherlock’s character fully within just a few tens of thousands of words—a challenge, but also the work’s unique charm.

Intelligence is Holmes’s defining trait, but in Conan Doyle’s "The Complete Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock is a bit flat as a character; in "Sherlock Holmes: The Consulting Detective," he feels more alive.

Sherlock is captivating and elegant, with a mind several streets ahead of the average person, a tall, slender figure, a proud and acerbic style, and a mysterious, ascetic aura—all qualities that make him irresistible.

John Watson, too, underwent significant adaptation in the novel. After hearing Sherlock’s showy deductions, Watson didn’t get angry; instead, he sincerely admired him. That, after all, was why Sherlock chose him as a roommate—perhaps even as a friend.

Compared to the original, Zhang Chu’s depiction felt more natural and authentic, standing as he was on the shoulders of giants.

"Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and tape measure, kneeling on the ground. His long, narrow nose was only a few inches from the floor, and his round, shining eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. He measured, compared, and examined the room with swift, silent, furtive movements, like a skilled hound searching for a scent..."

At that moment, Zhang Chu couldn’t help but feel relieved that he only had to adapt a single episode from "Sherlock Holmes: The Consulting Detective," and not the entire series—the sheer volume of work was daunting just to contemplate!

...

Unnoticed, a QQ chat window suddenly popped up, vibrating so vigorously it seemed to shake the whole screen. The message was from Wei Wenlin, listed in his contacts—a determined chubby guy who had managed to drop from 190 to 120 pounds over three years of high school. Girls constantly surrounded him, pestering him for weight-loss tips.

"I say, why is your phone still off? I called you several times and couldn’t get through. The college entrance exam’s over—we’re just waiting for you!"

Only then did Zhang Chu remember he’d left his phone on his desk because of the exam. Since being reborn, he hadn’t used or carried it at all.

He saved what he’d written so far on "Sherlock Holmes: The Consulting Detective," then replied, "Phones weren’t allowed for the exam, so I forgot. Where are you guys? I’ll come right over."

"We’re at Little Dragon Spicy Pot on Great Wall West Road—you’ll see when you get here. Hurry up!"

Wei Wenlin sat in the restaurant, several beers already down, turning to his classmates and friends. "Finally got hold of Zhang Chu! When he gets here, you all better make sure he drinks—don’t go easy on him."

Grabbing his wallet and phone, Zhang Chu hurried downstairs. At the counter, he called out, "Dad, I won’t be home for dinner tonight—I’m going out with classmates. Might be a bit late."

"Go ahead, just don’t drink so much you make the news, or your mother and I will kill you," Zhang Bowen replied, deeply engaged in his writing. "The Method of Deduction" had finally taken shape thanks to Zhang Chu’s advice, and he had no worries about his son.

The trip from home to Great Wall West Road wasn’t short; Zhang Chu flagged down a taxi and finally arrived to find his friends already well into their drinks.

"You finally made it! I thought you were going to ditch us," Wei Wenlin exclaimed, his face flushed. He grabbed Zhang Chu by the shoulder and thrust a beer bottle into his hand. "You keep calling us best mates, but you’re so good at hiding things."

Feng Tianrui joined in, "Yeah! If you hadn’t finished the exam so high-profile, we’d never have guessed you were a secret genius. We’ve all been waiting for you, so you’d better handle that beer yourself!"

"Zhang, you really are full of surprises. When I saw the news in the cafeteria yesterday, I nearly spat out my rice. After all those nights gaming together, you owe me psychological damages!"

These were Zhang Chu’s closest friends. Their grades varied, but nobody cared much about that—they were simply amazed at how strange the world could be.

Zhang Chu wasn’t one for false modesty. He took the beer and chugged it down—a whole bottle of Brave the World, emptied in one go.

"There, satisfied? It was wrong of me not to tell you," he grinned. In his last life, he’d drunk plenty, so downing a beer with high schoolers was nothing but an appetizer.

Little Dragon Spicy Pot was packed, full of students celebrating. Good food at fair prices made it a favorite among their peers.

Sitting down, Zhang Chu plunged a piece of tripe into the bubbling broth, stealing a glance at his friends—ten years younger, all still full of youthful ambition, unbowed by life’s burdens. It felt good.

"So, what universities are you aiming for? It’d be great if we all ended up at the same one," Feng Tianrui said suddenly—the inevitable topic for any group of exam-takers.

Chubby Wei Wenlin—no longer really chubby, but the nickname stuck—scratched his head anxiously. "With my scores, I’ll be lucky to get into a tier-two university. Probably one in our province. What about you, Zhang Chu?"

"I’m aiming for Tsinghua," Zhang Chu replied contentedly. He’d heard the names Tsinghua and Peking University all his life, but never dreamed he’d have the chance to attend. He had no intention of wasting another decade.

At this, his friends fell silent, gazing at him with mock resentment, beers raised in unison, determined to get him drunk.

"I really shouldn’t have asked. Zhang Chu just showed off again."

"When I was a kid, I used to worry about whether I’d go to Tsinghua or Peking University. Later, I realized I was overthinking it."

"Zhang Chu, if you go to Tsinghua, I’ll definitely visit and pay my respects to your campus!"