Chapter 3: Submission of "The Chess Master"
The cattle shed was located not far from Liu Chuangen’s home, roughly about a mile away.
Liu Chuangen glanced at his daughter, Liu Jingjing, beside him, his brows slightly furrowed, a trace of worry in his voice.
“Jingjing, the environment near the cattle shed isn’t very good, and the smell is strong. You’d better rest at home and not go over there.”
But Liu Jingjing shook her head, her eyes flickering with curiosity.
“Dad, I want to see it too. I’ve never seen a cow give birth.”
Liu Chuangen knew well that the conditions by the shed were indeed unpleasant; he feared his daughter wouldn’t endure the hardship.
“All three of your brothers are over there. Just stay home and wait for good news,” Liu Chuangen tried to persuade her.
However, Liu Jingjing was resolute. “Dad, I’m fine.”
Seeing the slight curiosity on her face, Liu Chuangen finally nodded.
“Alright, since you want to go so much, then come along and take a look.”
Lin Junsheng was indeed anxious.
“Are we going to watch or not?”
“Yes! Yes!”
The group headed toward the cattle shed.
Upon arrival, they saw three young, strong men busy at work—it was Liu Chuangen’s three sons.
Seeing their father and sister, they paused their tasks and greeted them warmly.
Liu Jingjing looked around the shed with curiosity, observing the cows about to give birth.
The air was filled with the mixed scent of grass and cow dung.
“Cough, cough... wow!”
“Are you alright, Jingjing?”
Lin Junsheng watched this scene, somewhat amused.
It was like trying Beijing’s fermented mung bean milk or Hangzhou’s West Lake vinegar fish—there were always skeptics who dared to try, only to be disappointed in the end.
Lin Junsheng stepped into the shed, the distinctive smell mixing hay, dung, and earth hitting him full on.
But to him, it was a familiar scent.
He scanned the surroundings; the yellow cows stood leisurely, their swollen bellies signaling the imminent arrival of new life.
He gently walked over, stroking each of their abdomens.
“Looks like we’re in for a tough night,” Lin Junsheng said with a furrowed brow.
Seeing this, Liu Chuangen grew anxious too. Rubbing his hands, he said, “Alright, we need to prepare everything quickly to welcome these calves.”
---
Lin Junsheng reminded him in time, “Wait, Uncle Liu, we need to settle the money matters first. The village party secretary can vouch for me—I’m not just naming a price arbitrarily.”
Liu Chuangen was momentarily stunned but then smiled, saying, “Two yuan a day isn’t enough? How about this—I’ll give you ten yuan now as a deposit.”
He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, counting out ten bills to hand to Lin Junsheng.
Lin Junsheng accepted the money, skillfully slipping it into his pants pocket, then spoke slowly.
“Uncle Liu, you know this is skilled work. Everyone in the neighboring villages knows about my abilities. Delivering a calf should be two yuan at least. If there’s a difficult birth requiring repositioning or other help, that’s five yuan per calf.”
Liu Chuangen’s brow knitted, clearly surprised by the price.
“Junsheng, wasn’t it cheaper before?”
Lin Junsheng smiled bitterly, pointing to his injured leg. “Uncle Liu, you’ve seen this leg. I’ve been diligently carrying on the craft from my father, and I still owe money for treatment.”
Liu Chuangen looked at Lin Junsheng’s injured leg, feeling a surge of sympathy.
He sighed, saying, “Alright! Alright! We’ll go with your price. Deal?”
Lin Junsheng’s face lit up with a satisfied smile. “Deal! It’s settled then.”
With that, he began to get busy.
---
Five days later, Lin Junsheng returned home, looking somewhat weary.
Those five days had been tough, but he had safely delivered over a dozen calves.
Liu Chuangen was overjoyed and had paid Lin Junsheng a total of only 65 yuan.
That was a good deal.
Though exhausted, Lin Junsheng’s spirits lifted when he saw an envelope on his desk.
Apparently, Lin Junwan had brought it in for him—he appreciated her kindness.
The letter was from Shanghai Literature magazine, containing not only a remittance slip but also a copy of the magazine featuring his novel.
Shanghai Literature was a monthly publication, formerly known by several names such as Literary Monthly and Shanghai Arts.
In 1980, the National Publishing Bureau issued the "Interim Regulations on Book Manuscript Remuneration," raising the basic payment standards for works from 2 to 7 yuan per thousand characters up to 3 to 10 yuan.
This remittance slip reflected the highest rate of 10 yuan.
His novel "The Chess King" was about 14,000 characters long.
The payment on the slip was 140 yuan.
Including the money earned from delivering livestock, he had saved nearly 200 yuan over the past month and a half.
---
That was equivalent to a year’s salary.
If not for writing, he wouldn’t have saved so much so quickly.
He hoped that the Xingxing Art Exhibition, organized by Acheng, Huang Rui, Ai Weiwei, and others, would be a success.
As for the matter of losing his fortune...
He had not just written the novel "The Chess King."
With his screenwriting skills, he also adapted a screenplay of the same name.
There were two versions of the film "The Chess King": the 1988 version directed by Teng Wenji, which stayed truer to the original novel, and the Hong Kong version directed by Yan Hao and Tsui Hark, starring Leung Ka-fai, which was adapted by mingling Acheng’s novel with one by Taiwanese writer Zhang Xiguo.
When Lin Junsheng wrote the screenplay, he pondered for days and decided to write the version directed by Teng Wenji.
After all, it restored his own novel.
However, he had yet to hear back from the Shanghai Film Studio regarding the script.
After unpacking everything from the envelope, he found a letter from the editor of Shanghai Literature.
Reading it, Lin Junsheng saw the editor praised his writing highly.
They likened his action descriptions to the style of "Water Margin," among other compliments.
Lin Junsheng tossed the letter aside—he was too lazy to read the flowery words; as long as he earned money, that was enough.
He planned to visit town soon to go to the post office and withdraw the money.
He hoped for a letter from the Shanghai Film Studio.
Then he could go there to revise the screenplay.
They would provide room and board, plus a daily allowance of two yuan—much better than home.
He could also work in film and perhaps get close to Gong Xue, Zhu Lin, Cong Shan...
But he still hadn’t received any news!
---
“Xiaowan, I’m telling you, you have to come with me today.”
“Mom, I’m not going, don’t force me!”
“I’ve worked so hard raising you. I ask nothing in return. Just come with me.”
“Xiaowan, don’t...”
Lin Junsheng had already rushed out by then, silently cursing, “This is bad!”