Chapter 150: The Writing Sword Jianghu Grand Prix (Bonus Chapter for 1800 Subscriptions)

Chen Liangjun had not been in a good mood lately.

That brat named Tan Zhang—or Zhang Tan, it was hard to keep track—kept popping up in the newspaper every day. One day his book sales soared, the next day his work was being adapted into a TV drama, and the day after that, the screenwriter was publicly attacking him for being overbearing. Whether the news was good or bad, Chen Liangjun found it all irritating.

It reminded him of just over a year ago, when Zhang Tan was still the little punk he looked down on—ungrateful, whining even when he was handed kickbacks.

Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, he’d become a nationally renowned young writer?

People were even hailing him as the emblematic figure of post-80s literature—some kind of grandmaster of martial arts fiction, part of a literary trinity, the top figure in film and television adaptations. The praise was so over the top it made Chen Liangjun want to storm into the newsroom, grab the reporter by the collar, and ask, “Have you ever read martial arts novels? What nonsense are you spewing? What good books can Zhang Tan possibly write to deserve such praise?”

Along with his frustration came a pang of regret.

“The Legend of the Condor Heroes” had sold millions of copies domestically, and even “The Four Great Constables Meet in the Capital” had sold over a million. If he had signed those books back then, the kickbacks alone would have been more than enough to make him rich.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Lately, Chen Liangjun barely glanced at the news.

Today, as usual, he was heading to the publishing house to hang around, chat with the new female accountant in finance, share some jokes, and see if he could squeeze out some favors.

“Damn it, that little schemer Xiao Cai, playing hard to get? I just touched her hand, and she starts whining! I’ll get her into bed sooner or later—then she’ll have plenty to complain about!” Chen Liangjun thought, a sly smile creeping onto his face.

Like a mangy dog spotting a bone.

But as he swaggered into the publishing house, he noticed the looks from the staff were tinged with a hint of schadenfreude.

When he walked into his office, his bright expectations were immediately dashed. The office was supposed to be his private domain as vice president—only the cleaning lady dared to enter to mop the floor. No one else was supposed to come in.

He hated anyone invading his territory.

But this time, he didn’t get angry. Or rather, he didn’t dare.

Inside the office were the publishing house’s president and the discipline inspection committee secretary, busy sorting through his work reports.

“Good morning, President. You’re here early,” Chen Liangjun said, forcing a nervous smile.

The president’s face was stern. “It’s not morning anymore, Chen Liangjun. It’s nearly noon.”

The tone was grave enough for Chen Liangjun to sense something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on...?”

The president pushed a newspaper across the desk toward him. “See for yourself.”

Chen Liangjun picked it up.

It was the most famous newspaper in Hubei, the Chutian Metropolitan Daily. The headline on the open page was printed in bold black letters: “Young Writer Tan Zhang Signs Books in Wuhan.”

The title alone was sharp enough to irritate Chen Liangjun, who hated seeing news about Zhang Tan.

But the subtitle was even more cutting: “Works reach sales of ten million copies; once refused contract by Wuhan University Press for refusing kickbacks.”

Cold sweat broke out on Chen Liangjun’s brow. He shouted like a butcher, “President, this is slander! It’s all lies!”

The president replied coldly, “Whether it’s slander or not, it concerns our publishing house. The discipline committee will investigate thoroughly. We have preliminary evidence of your embezzlement, so the party committee will convene soon to discuss suspending all your duties. Go home and await further notice.”

“President… President, how can this be? This is slander! You can’t just believe that kid’s one-sided story and investigate me like this!”

The president snorted. “If we don’t investigate, do you think the publication bureau will come to investigate us? A reporter called me last night to ask about you… You’d better watch your own back.”

In an instant, Chen Liangjun felt as if he had fallen from heaven into hell. The reporter had called the night before, but the president never told him. The verdict was clear—the other side had silently prepared the ground, ready to throw him out to save face.

Chen Liangjun’s pipe dream was over.

...

In stark contrast, Zhang Tan was in high spirits.

He had been interviewed by the Chutian Metropolitan Daily during the day, and that evening received a call from the president of Wuhan University Press inviting him to dinner. Upon learning Zhang Tan had already arranged to meet with a bookstore owner in Wuhan that night, the president rescheduled for noon the next day.

He also solemnly promised a thorough investigation into Chen Liangjun.

Wuhan University Press was a government institution. Unlike private firms, embezzlement and bribery cases could not be settled privately but had to go through administrative procedures.

Since they planned to investigate Chen Liangjun, it basically meant his career was finished.

This was exactly what Zhang Tan wanted.

“Thirty years on the east side of the river, thirty years on the west—the wheel of fortune turns!” Zhang Tan said with a smile.

Zhang Tan agreed to the dinner invitation from the president for two reasons. First, the president’s humility—whether sincere or not, at least on the surface he appeared apologetic. Second, and most importantly, Zhang Tan wanted to give the president a way to save face and help the publishing house mitigate the negative press.

With the president’s ego satisfied, he would naturally retaliate harshly against Chen Liangjun, ensuring he could never recover. Even if they couldn’t imprison him, they would sever his chances of continuing in the publishing world.

“Though ‘the wheel of fortune turns’ seems an oddly fitting phrase for the current situation,” Zhang Tan mused, still in good spirits.

“Shouldn’t it be shouted out loud at a time like this?” he thought.

“Never underestimate a poor young man!”

Better to deceive an old man with a white beard than to deceive a poor young man—one day the dragon will pierce the phoenix, and you won’t believe a lifetime of patched-up pants.

Zhang Tan, slightly tipsy in his hotel room, proudly recalled this Cantonese saying.

At dinner, the bookstore owner was very enthusiastic—no surprise, given how wildly popular “The Return of the Condor Heroes” was. Zhang Tan holding a signing event had brought a lot of attention to the store; of course, they welcomed him warmly.

The next morning, Zhang Tan visited the editorial office of “Ancient and Modern Legends: Martial Arts Edition.”

This edition had become a cornerstone publication of “Ancient and Modern Legends.” After switching from a bi-monthly to a monthly, it expanded from 126 pages to 160, issuing three volumes a month. Each issue regularly sold over 500,000 copies.

“The Legend of the Condor Heroes” was still serialized in the magazine, though nearing its conclusion. Since the physical book sales had ended, the magazine serialization had reverted to 60,000 words per issue. Zhang Tan planned to stop serializing in the magazine after this story, as the income was too low and his reputation no longer needed the magazine’s exposure.

Though the serialization was likely coming to an end, Zhang Tan remained grateful to “Ancient and Modern Legends” for providing a platform to showcase his work. He also thanked Wang Conglun for introducing him to publish the traditional Chinese edition of “The Four Great Constables Shake the East,” which opened the door to print publication.

Before arriving, Zhang Tan had sent his assistants Ma Weiwei and Zhou Nan to buy egg tarts and cold drinks as a gesture of thanks for the editors’ diligent work.

Now a celebrated figure in the martial arts literary world, Zhang Tan was personally greeted by Wang Conglun and even met the magazine’s owner, who exchanged polite words with him.

After a brief chat, Zhang Tan excused himself. “Old Wang, I have something this noon and a signing event this afternoon. I’ll treat you to dinner tonight and discuss something with you.”

“Discuss something? What is it?”

“We’ll talk tonight.”

“All right, I’ll book the restaurant and wait for you.”

Zhang Tan was busy until eight at night, when he finally finished the signing event. The readers in Wuhan were truly passionate.

Afterward, he went straight to the restaurant.

Wang Conglun was already there with screenwriters Li Qiuyu, Bi Wanzhen, and others, clearly hosting Zhang Tan. Once seated, dishes began to arrive, and the conversation quickly turned to the main topic.

“I’m thinking of leveraging ‘Ancient and Modern Legends: Martial Arts Edition’ as a platform to hold a martial arts novel competition, to see if we can discover some promising authors and revitalize the shrinking martial arts culture,” Zhang Tan said.

This idea had long been on his mind.

Fan Zhongyan once said, “When poor, cultivate oneself; when prosperous, help others.” Or rather, “When successful, benefit the world.”

Zhang Tan did not possess grand ambitions to benefit the world; he simply wanted to realize a dream.

In a previous life, Zhang Tan loved writing and dreamed of becoming a writer.

Under the shade of a tree on campus, he once told Li Jing that he wanted to go to Shanghai, work and write, and fulfill his dream.

After entering vocational college, he saw the Wen Ruian Shenzhou Martial Arts Award advertised in “Ancient and Modern Legends: Martial Arts Edition,” with a prize of ten thousand yuan, and actually wrote a short story.

He still remembered that story, “Blade’s Edge of the World,” about a disciple named Xing Zhan from a great sect on a remote southern island who, with his master’s permission, traveled to the central plains. Passing through Yangzhou, he happened upon a courtesan choosing a husband. Using his martial arts skills, he won the embroidered ball.

Just as he was riding high, danger loomed. The son of a local sect leader also coveted the courtesan, plotting to kill Xing Zhan. But Xing Zhan fought back, stirring chaos throughout Yangzhou, ultimately defeating all challengers and winning the beauty.

A novel that now seemed melodramatic and overwrought.

But at the time, it was good enough to make the semifinals.

That semifinal was the closest Zhang Tan ever came to being a writer in his former life; afterward, whether from laziness or disappointment, he never wrote again.

Reborn, he no longer needed to enter any contests.

Still, he harbored a lingering regret—a hope to create a martial arts competition to encourage young dreamers like himself to bravely pick up the pen and create.

Wang Conglun had no reason to oppose Zhang Tan’s proposal.

They immediately began discussing the competition’s logistics.

They ultimately decided that Zhang Tan’s Luzhou Studio would fund the event in partnership with “Ancient and Modern Legends: Martial Arts Edition,” establishing the “Tan Zhang Cup: Pen Warriors of the Jianghu Martial Arts Grand Prix.”

Held annually, the competition would award 100,000 yuan in total: one grand prize of 30,000 yuan, five second prizes of 10,000 yuan each, and ten excellence awards of 2,000 yuan each. The goal was to encourage newcomers with martial arts dreams to embark on a creative path.

Zhang Tan would initiate the competition; the studio would maintain contact with the editorial office for the remainder.

Having enjoyed a carefree summer, Zhang Tan now needed to steady himself and prepare for his forthcoming final year of high school.

(To be continued.)