This is a record of an interview with the spirit of Zhou Chuanshun, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the . This account reflects upon his life and subsequent rebirths as a bovine spirit. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa Xin, on November 23, 2020.
Zhou Chuanshun speaks:
". I am a Chinese man from Sichuan. I was the eldest grandson in my family, and from the moment I was born, the entire family focused their attention on me. They named me Zhou Chuanshun, with the nickname 'Shun-er,' hoping that everything I did would go smoothly and successfully.
A Legacy Built on Suffering
From my grandfather's generation, our family business was the trade of cowhide. My grandfather collaborated with several ranches. Every few months, he would visit these ranches to select cattle. He would look for the specific hide colours that were most popular in the market at that time and designate a date for those hides to be delivered to our factory. Each time he selected, he would choose at least two hundred cattle. It was not just adult cattle; sometimes he would even select calves, because their skin texture was softer. Some people in the market would use these for high-end handbags, luxury shoes, or designer belts.
My father learned from my grandfather from a young age, and both of them had an eye for quality that was second to none. The leather they sold was always premium grade. Many major mainstream brands, as well as distributors in Europe and the United States, would purchase high-quality hides from my grandfather. He could even request specific types of cattle from the ranches to meet the needs of different manufacturers. To my grandfather, selecting cattle was as simple as a woman comparing clothes with her hands.
The Poison of Profit
Sometimes, due to market demand, the supply of certain hide colours was insufficient. My grandfather would then select lighter-coloured hides and have them dyed and processed in the factory. Because the natural texture of the hide was rough and difficult to dye, my grandfather used extremely harsh chemicals and dyes. These dyes were potent and toxic—lethal to the human body. But to survive in the competitive market, to maintain our reputation, and to satisfy our customers, we had no choice but to do it.
After I was born, 'Shun-er' made the family business even more prosperous. My grandfather believed I brought wealth, so he doted on me. From a young age, whatever I wanted, I received. As my younger cousins were born, my grandfather decided to expand the business further, intending to leave it for us to manage. He established factories in several second-tier cities in China. Beyond the partner ranches, he began importing hides internationally, primarily from the United States and Australia, where cattle production was highest. The living conditions for cattle abroad differed, resulting in different types of hides, which allowed us to broaden our market reach. My grandfather had a brilliant mind for the industry, and through his constant development of the leather market, he earned the title of 'Leather King.'
A Factory in Flames
When my grandfather was sixty and my father was forty-two, a disaster struck the factory. We were rushing an export order, and my father was using high-concentration chemicals to dye the hides. Suddenly, a spark—from where, no one knew—ignited the chemicals. With a loud 'bang,' my father was thrown back by the explosion. A massive fire began to spread, and the entire space was filled with the suffocating stench of toxic chemicals. By the time the fire engines arrived, the blaze was almost uncontrollable. The firefighters smelled the toxic fumes and immediately put on gas masks. Twenty lives, including my father's, were lost in that accident. My grandfather used all his assets to compensate the families of the victims and, enduring the pain of losing his son, began to rebuild the factory.
The Weight of Expectations
After losing my father, my grandfather aged significantly, and he shifted all his affection and expectations onto me. I was thirteen at the time. After school, instead of letting me do my homework, he would make me go to the factory to learn by his side. He would always tell me, 'You are my successor. You have my genes, and one day you will manage this factory. You must understand every detail. You cannot rely on others.' I was very obedient; I knew I was my grandfather's hope. At that time, he took me to visit our five factories at home and abroad. They were medium-sized, and on average, they processed the hides of three thousand cattle daily for domestic and international sales. My grandfather saw that the leather market was vast and versatile, and he believed it could be expanded further. Since we were short-handed in international sales, he wanted me to master English to manage the business and grow our overseas market. Whatever my grandfather arranged, I followed.
Loneliness and the Cries of the Cattle
At fifteen, I was sent to Australia to study. Upon arriving, I was lonely and terrified. But when I thought of my grandfather's aged face and his expectant eyes, I forced myself to endure. Every day, I buried myself in books to fill the emptiness in my heart. I didn't have many friends. I would sit in my room, staring out the window. Sometimes, I would hear the wailing of cattle—sometimes for a brief moment, sometimes for a long time. It made my heart tremble with fear.
By the age of eighteen, I was no longer the innocent boy I once was. I stopped burying myself in books to hide my emptiness and started looking outward. I went through one girlfriend after another—Chinese, foreign, Black—as long as they could satisfy my physical desires, we would use each other for our own needs.
The Final Collision
During my years in Australia, I only called my grandfather during the New Year or when I needed money. After a few words of concern, I would tell him what I wanted to buy. He always agreed, asking me, 'How many more years until you come back?' I would always reply, 'A few more years.'
One day, driving my new convertible sports car with the music blaring, enjoying the thrill of speed, I suddenly saw cattle running alongside my car. They were racing with me, and some even bumped into the side of my vehicle. I shouted, 'Get away! Get away!' I slammed my foot on the accelerator, hoping to shake them off. Instead of falling behind, they kept pace with me. After I floored the pedal, there was a violent impact, and I felt my entire body being shaken by a massive force. The last time I opened my eyes, my head felt like it was exploding, and hot liquid was streaming down. I touched it—it was blood. Before me, a fierce bovine spirit glared at me with its eyes. At that moment, my eighteen-year-old life ended. I entered of a cow, becoming a brown bull. Those bovine eyes were mine, still holding that arrogant, cynical look of a playboy. I have been a cow, dying and being reborn ten times. Each time, I am slaughtered, dying in agony, only to enter the womb of another cow to be born again and suffer the retribution. My grandfather spent so much money from selling hides to raise me, and I must now pay back that debt as a cow. I dare not imagine where my grandfather is now.
A Plea for Deliverance
In this life as a cow, I was reborn in this simple town of Goombungee. Every day is just eating grass, drinking water, eating grass, drinking water. Sometimes, when I walk near the fence, I see a white house emitting a radiant, peaceful light. Even the flowers and trees near that fence seem vibrant with life. If I am near the fence, I cannot help but gaze at the scene next door. I never expected that the people living in that white house could actually speak to me and remind me of my past. My heart is filled with sorrow. I cry out, 'How could I be so ignorant, letting myself become a cow!' My heart is in such pain. Is there any way you can help me? Woo—woo—woo—"
