Section Seven: Recognition and Motivation

When making a decision, the more people involved, the more foolish the result tends to be.

Modern Western democracy is built on this very fact.

—Wang Luo

August 15th, 1993, 12:05 PM
140 meters east of the rendezvous point, Trall Café, East Street

“Sorry, I’m a little late.”

Zhu Cunjia pushed open the door, nodded with a smile, and walked in. Right behind him, Tang Xiaoxiao also entered.

They arrived together? Yang Wentian studied her face, wondering if their relationship had changed. He caught a fleeting look of embarrassment.

Was she coerced or bribed? If their alliance grew closer, it might create unnecessary danger.

He shifted slightly toward Wang Luo and Zhou Yingxiong, feeling awkward, and was the first to speak: “You’re just in time, have a seat. Just now...” He pointed at Wang Luo, who was smiling. “Someone made a suggestion.”

“Oh?” Zhu Cunjia pulled out a chair for Tang Xiaoxiao and, after she sat, grabbed one for himself and leaned back. “What kind of suggestion?”

Wang Luo spread his hands, fixing his gaze on Zhu Cunjia’s brows, and with honest seriousness, explained his plan once again.

“Perhaps, it’s a good idea,” Zhu Cunjia replied after a pause. “How do we carry it out specifically?”

“We do it just like any typical bank robbery...” Wang Luo’s expression was calm and grave. “We prepare a few guns, a few cars, some staff uniforms from that company, a few masks, and hit the bank. I don’t have experience with this, I don’t know how you used to... fight. I imagine you’re more effective than I am?”

“I have guns right here.” Yang Wentian produced several spare handguns from his storage. “As for cars, I think we can hit Umbrella’s outskirts and grab a few marked vehicles, maybe snatch some uniforms too.”

“Good idea,” Zhu Cunjia said. “Actually, we can split up. The banks and TV stations here shouldn’t have much resistance. We can go get vehicles together, then Tang and I hit the bank, while you three go for the TV station...”

“Talk amongst yourselves, don’t count me in.”

It was Zhou Yingxiong’s voice—cold, indifferent, and listless. “Don’t assign me work, don’t put me in your plans, I’m not going anywhere.” As the others stared at him, Zhou emphasized his stance.

Zhu Cunjia, interrupted, gave a baffled laugh. “Of course, that’s fine...”

“Really, you’re just scared, aren’t you, coward?” Yang Wentian sneered.

Perhaps Zhou Yingxiong’s demeanor left no room for doubt. No one challenged Yang Wentian’s words. Zhu Cunjia hesitated, gestured to Yang not to say that, but said nothing further.

“Trash! Useless! Coward! What do you think this place is? Not going? Then die! Sit here and wait for death!”

Zhou Yingxiong burst into tears.

He covered his face, sobbing like a child. Yang Wentian’s lip twitched, and he stopped speaking.

He’d never seen anything like this... Frankly, Yang Wentian was already prepared for Zhou Yingxiong to lash out. Then they’d brawl, and Zhou could vent his fear of the unfamiliar environment. Afterward, all would be well.

But... who would have guessed the man was genuinely a coward?

Let him be, then! One less person isn’t a big deal, the plan can go on.

He turned to the others with a helpless gesture. Zhu Cunjia frowned, returning a smile; Tang Xiaoxiao looked at Zhou with open disdain.

Wang Luo smiled, too, but unlike the others.

Though his face was still young and gentle, there was a newfound resolve there.

“It’s a pitiful sight,” Wang Luo said, watching Zhou Yingxiong, who was still sobbing uncontrollably. “But in my way of thinking, as long as someone is human, there are infinite possibilities, chances, and value. Each of us will stumble, face trouble, and suffer pain now and then. So what? Just get up again.”

Having said this, he looked at Zhou Yingxiong.

“Do you have some problem? Need help?”

Zhou Yingxiong raised his head, red-eyed, and flung his hand as if to vent. “What problem! You’re the ones with problems! I don’t care about you, don’t care about me!”

He shook, glaring at Wang Luo, who met his anger with serene indifference.

“So it’s family trouble? Is it... your wife?”

Zhou’s sobs stopped abruptly, a look of shock and fear in his eyes. “You...”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. But whatever’s happened, coming here is our chance. No matter how unlucky, you’re still a man. Do you know what the greatest fortune for a man is?”

Zhou stared at Wang Luo, who was smiling, arm raised.

“An enemy. For a man, every problem can be solved in battle. When you defeat your enemy, overpower him, stomp him underfoot, and watch him beg for mercy in pain—everything you’ve lost will return! On the battlefield, all your troubles are resolved.”

“Think of your old self—timid, cowering, tearful... afraid? Afraid of the light, the wind, your own shadow? It doesn’t matter! Just fight. I believe you have your strengths. Go win! You can win! All your fears will vanish, all your pain will fall away. You’ll be reborn!”

“A man who’s fought is a real man. Otherwise, there’s always something missing in life. Why do you suffer? Because you lack this!”

Zhou’s sobbing had stopped; he broke out in goosebumps. Then, breathing heavily, he wiped his tears and nose with his sleeve, looking at Wang Luo with a face full of gratitude and affirmation, nodding.

Section Eight: The Mission Begins

What am I doing?! This is dangerous! They’ll see through me! I’ll lose!

I could die!!!

Things could spiral out of control.

—Wang Luo

August 15th, 1993, 1:32 PM
12 kilometers northwest of the rendezvous point, Umbrella Company Warehouse No. 5, Martin Street

Only two people were on the mission: Zhu Cunjia and Yang Wentian. Their goal was to steal company trucks and uniforms.

“Umbrella has a medium-sized warehouse on Martin Street. For some reason, it’s mostly abandoned now. Security isn’t tight. We should be able to get trucks and uniforms from there.”

Back at the café, after Zhu Cunjia said this, Yang Wentian grew even more suspicious of his motives for entering this scenario.

Before entering, Yang had spent all he had training his skills. Guiding newcomers was his only option—a way to earn a little in an easy scenario before facing the real battlefield.

But Zhu Cunjia didn’t look like he was here for that... For one, it was impossible for a newcomer scenario to have two guides. For another, he seemed too familiar with the setting.

Experienced contractors gain very little from entering rookie scenarios. Usually, only big teams do this, targeting rare, special-effect items. But there was no such loot in the Biohazard world.

Wait—this is “Aberration Crisis.” What’s going on? Scene names don’t normally change like that.

It could be a trap. Maybe he’s here to bring in new team members. Wang Luo and Tang Xiaoxiao could be veterans, too. Perhaps many old hands used different methods to enter, causing all these changes...

A blade split the darkness, slashing a fragile throat. Blood spurted, a wail, then the body crashed to the ground.

I’m not cut out for overthinking. Yang Wentian wiped the blood from his blade and shook his head.

Whatever their agenda, I’ve got almost nothing. Nothing to fear! Even if they turn on me, I have comrades to rely on.

Cold, hard, razor-sharp steel.

Wang Luo... he shouldn’t be on Zhu Cunjia’s team.

He couldn’t say why. Just a strong feeling. Yang Wentian had trusted his instincts to escape death many times—he stuck to them now.

He took the keys from the body, moved forward, and opened the truck door. He tossed the three stolen Umbrella uniforms inside and started the engine.

By the time he finished, another truck was already pulling out—Zhu Cunjia’s work was clearly done as well.

If they’re not together, and if Zhu’s mostly telling the truth... then is Wang Luo the wild card?

At least, he didn’t seem particularly strong.

He started the truck, following Zhu’s vehicle, mind still on his earlier conversation with Wang Luo.

“How did you know his family was the problem?”

“He reeks of the smell of a cast-off, defeated male animal in heat. Did you notice how Tang Xiaoxiao looked at him? Nine times out of ten, it’s that sort of thing.”

“How could the system... Even if you said all that, it won’t help him.”

“Oh, it’ll help a little, at least. I’ve... I’ve never met a totally useless human.”

“So as long as someone’s of the slightest use, you’ll lie to them?”

“Lie? I never uttered a single falsehood. Slander is a vice.”

“He’s likely to die, not solve his problems.”

“I never said he wouldn’t die. Think about it—did I ever say he wouldn’t die?”

“Didn’t you say—”

“Of course! If you go to war and win, your problems are solved; if you die, your problems are solved too—dead men don’t feel fear, don’t feel inferior, don’t pine for women. Problem solved, right?”

...That makes a twisted kind of sense—I have no rebuttal. Yang Wentian’s mouth twitched, and he fell silent.

Even if that kind of man musters his courage, so what?

This Zhou Yingxiong—if he actually enters combat, faces a horde of zombies, he’ll be dead in minutes. If he doesn’t wet his pants, it’ll be a miracle.

Why should I care? I’m not responsible for someone I met three hours ago. But Wang Luo...

In Wang Luo’s own words, he gives off a powerful scent.

Is he the variable? The reason rewards and risks are so out of proportion? Is following his plan the only way out?

No, I can’t be sure yet. I’ll keep watching.