Section Eleven: The Ring (3)

Dealing with those who are motivated by interests is far easier than dealing with those fools whose minds are full of emotions—complaints of “you betrayed me” or “I betrayed you.” For betrayal is natural and requires no justification, while loyalty demands a reason—well, at least that’s how it is for those who are relatively strong.

—Wang Luo

August 15, 1993, 8:21 p.m.
10.1 kilometers south of the meeting point, 12 Nost Street, First Television Station of Grizzly City

——————

“Would you believe it?”

Yang Wentian’s gaze was hardly friendly.

Most people, upon realizing they’ve been played, are not particularly cordial.

Wang Luo’s tone was calm. He didn’t seem inclined to mention that Yang Wentian hadn’t warned him, nor that Yang had been ready to bolt at any moment just now.

“What kind of fool would willingly admit to their own stupidity? They’d rather believe there’s a vast fortune beneath their city; they’d rather believe they deserve a share of it. And who would ever believe a company would help with city construction for no reason? Such things… as long as you have the nerve to say it, they’ll have the nerve to believe it.”

“Humans, by nature, are creatures who will unhesitatingly believe whatever they want to believe, especially when it comes to gold—gleaming gold that makes men fight and kill, that makes women widen their eyes, part their legs, and reveal the joy in their hearts. What could more powerfully awaken the greed in people? What could more convincingly make a suspicious crowd believe they’re being plundered?”

Yang Wentian weighed these words and had to admit their logic.

So, muddy the waters, exhaust the company, and the opportunity will emerge. He had to concede—it was a good plan.

Was it intentional? Had he anticipated that, even if he’d tricked them before, and even if they didn’t cooperate, his plan would still move forward?

“Even if these people are Americans, I don’t think it’s right to let them all turn into zombies.”

“I want to save them. It’s difficult, but I think it’s still possible—of course, not at the cost of myself. I never planned to break rules that might bring severe punishment for the sake of these Americans, nor am I willing to pay any excessive price.”

“So the plan is as it is now. The core premise is that, most of the time, most people aren’t actually thinking.”

“In other words, these Americans are manipulable. Their actions are governed not by thought, but by instinct. To go further: no matter how evil, mad, or greedy the enemies in this scenario are, they’re not really thinking—at least, not most of the time.”

“That means their behavior is controllable, open to manipulation and direction. Everything I’ve done, and will do, is built on this foundation.”

“And what kind of people are Americans?”

“This group, for all their self-proclaimed civility, are essentially robbers at heart. Plunder, windfalls, being deceived by government and corporations, relying on personal struggle and adventure to gain great wealth—these are the things this group likes, approves of, and is willing to believe.”

“The best way to make a group believe something is to tell them what they want to hear. Tell robbers they’ve been robbed; they’ll be furious, but their instincts will tell them it’s possible. Give them a chance to rob, and they’ll show their greatest talents—instead of meekly letting themselves be slaughtered like lambs.”

“The story about the gold is full of holes. But their minds will, by instinct, chase down every clue that supports it. So Zhu Cunjia scattering gold in the city is helpful, but even if he did nothing, it would hardly affect the farce.”

Of course, if he’s willing to cooperate, the effect will be even better. A news broadcast, combined with gold scattered everywhere—how should I put it… This city’s people, as a collective, have already been psychologically breached by me.

After that, their thoughts will be entirely consumed by gold. When the sun rises, they’ll imagine golden shadows everywhere.

There may be a few who consider themselves clear-headed and rational. That’s easily handled; when they discover Umbrella’s vehicles flinging cash along the way, with gold hidden inside—ha!

This psychological breach will make them believe our story and Umbrella’s villainy even more deeply than those who believed it from the start. That’s just human nature.

And the purpose of all this: first, as required by the mission, is to solve the problem of the underground laboratory; second, if convenient, is to save this group of Americans who may have made many mistakes, but don’t deserve to be turned into zombies.

I’m quite vulnerable, as you saw—I can’t even use a handgun. But when it comes to strategy, I’m not without talent; I’ve already planned what comes next.

Of course, for safety, I can’t tell you now what we’ll do. If you cooperate, we’ll complete the mission together, survive this scenario, and maybe gain much—or maybe little, I can’t guarantee. But if you truly can’t forgive me, there’s nothing I can do...

As for Wang Luo not following the original plan, Yang Wentian didn’t really care. The humility and low posture Wang Luo displayed in his explanation pleased him.

Most importantly, Wang Luo’s lack of combat ability led Yang Wentian to his final decision—he was never one to dither.

“Forget it, it’s nothing. I believe you mean no harm. I’ll do as you say, and I won’t ask about the overall plan, but whatever it is, inform me beforehand—don’t tell me halfway that you’ve changed the plan again; and don’t expect me to carry out any dangerous tasks. If anything goes wrong…”

Yang Wentian flashed his blade.

“There won’t be a problem.” Wang Luo clasped his hands together. “Everything will go smoothly.”

After this cordial and friendly conversation, they returned to the studio.

“Sir, your phone call.” A nervous studio staff member said softly. “Someone’s calling for the Joker.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Grizzly City’s First Television Station had already been taken over, so it wasn’t appropriate to send reporters to the city center for interviews. But in the control room, the second channel’s program was visible. It reported on the car in the square that had scattered money, and the incident where several kilograms of gold were found in the wreckage of an exploded vehicle. The police hadn’t arrived at the station yet, perhaps because of this.

“Do you have any more Umbrella footage?” After the call, Wang Luo asked the especially eager-looking host.

“We have their promotional videos, a few commercials, and clips of them attending various projects…”

“Play those, and add the last three lines you just said as voiceover.” Wang Luo glanced at the station owner, a portly man with a broad face. “How many people do you need? How long will it take?”

Five minutes later, Grizzly City First Television Station began broadcasting Umbrella’s previously announced videos about funding municipal construction, with the original narration removed and replaced by lines like, “Plundering Grizzly City’s wealth, then leaving only scraps for its citizens!” “Umbrella appears to be a chemical company, but in truth, its main profit comes from stealing Grizzly City’s underground resources!”

“Very good.” Wang Luo praised as he watched the new program. “Do you have any footage of gold—not mining, but piles of gold being stored and transported?”

“Yes… I think so.”

“Alternate those with the previous footage. Add the line, ‘The survey was a success! Another rich vein has been discovered underground! It’s estimated to yield at least three thousand tons of gold! Perhaps some will be set aside to form an armed force to guard against accidents and transport the gold produced.’ Oh, and you can insert your ads during the broadcast—if you need to.”

Whether due to Zhou Yingxiong’s ever-present pistol or genuine interest in the program, the station staff were very cooperative.

While these programs aired, the station owner—he and a few other managers were tied together, squinting at the broadcast, lost in thought.

Once the gold narration was ready, and the past Umbrella footage and the “revelations” of the night were all being shown in rotation, Wang Luo took a deep breath and stood beside the owner.

“What should I call you?”

“Just call me Philip.” The owner sized up Wang Luo’s Joker mask. “What are you planning to do with us?”

The other captives exchanged glances. “Don’t worry, we won’t harm you. We’ll leave soon. Because of the truths we’ve revealed, the company won’t let us go.”

“Is all this true?” a young captive asked.

“Of course. Why else would I risk my life to come here?” Wang Luo’s answer was perfectly natural. Such naturalness had its advantages—if these staff had enough sense of justice, he might even win them over—though they might just as well use this to blackmail Umbrella.

These three segments, broadcast in relentless rotation, should attract plenty of attention. But that company—if it can research agents capable of wiping out humanity, it surely won’t hesitate to dispose of a handful of people defaming it.

“If you’re not planning to kill us, then leave quickly.” Mr. Philip eyed Wang Luo with a hyena’s leer. “The police will be here soon. True or not, the company won’t forgive you.”

“But you’re not going to help them, are you?”

“Even if I wanted to, there’s nothing I could do.” Mr. Philip shifted his arms. “I’m under the control of kidnappers.”

“If you could keep the program running after we’re gone, I’d be grateful.”

“Sorry, but we’re scheduled to air ‘Batman’ soon. The broadcast rights were hard to get.”

“Ah, a fine program. Do I look like the Joker to you?”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha. Being the Joker isn’t easy. I don’t think you’re that crazy.”

“I suppose not.” Wang Luo leaned in and whispered in Philip’s ear, “If the ads air as usual, and this program’s ratings please you, what if I loosen your ropes before leaving? Wouldn’t the arriving police—and the company’s people—think this show was all your grand production?”

Philip went rigid. “That’s an outrageous slander… I have friends…”

“Who doesn’t?” Wang Luo straightened up. “Don’t worry, you won’t be harmed. Our goal is to reveal the truth to the public! For this, we’d sacrifice anything… though not just yet. The police are nearly here; we have to go.”

“You left fingerprints on the desk. You won’t get away.”

“Ah… ah… thank you. If you let the program run a bit longer, I’ll thank you on behalf of the citizens. Goodbye, everyone.”

Wang Luo wiped the nearby desk, erasing any fingerprints that might be there—then casually picked up a few business cards and turned to leave.