The small room was a mess, with stacks of bizarre documents cluttering a grimy desk. A sleazy video played on the dim screen of an outdated laptop, and the floor was littered with discarded beer cans and cigarette butts.
Li Yexing, clad in boots and shirtless, followed a strange instinct from unfamiliar memories and stepped into the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. It was still his familiar face, but his hair was cropped short, his expression shadowed and grim. His bare torso revealed lean, powerful muscles marred by vicious scars—some from knives, others from bullets.
Leaving the bathroom, he grabbed a file from the desk. It was covered in English, detailing an armed escort mission.
"Oh… this is for a job five days from now. Escort a shipment of critical cargo through the city to a handover point in the outskirts."
Memories that weren't his own flooded in, instantly decoding the file's details. He tossed it back onto the desk and propped his head in his hands, lost in thought. Just the night before, he'd been slaving away at a barbecue joint, gone home, washed up, and collapsed into bed. Then he woke up here—on a sagging, peeling sofa in a filthy room, sporting a chiseled physique and a head full of someone else's memories.
"Heh, transmigrated, huh…"
Li Yexing muttered to himself, surprised by how calm he felt. This wasn't normal. He was just a high school dropout scraping by at the bottom of society—there was no way he should be this composed about transmigrating. Yet, here he was, unfazed by the absurdity of it all.
He touched his face, feeling the stubble. Was he being influenced by this body's personality or memories?
The memories told him this body's owner was also named Li Yexing—a scumbag who indulged in drinking, gambling, and worse. A man without a shred of compassion. The land beneath his feet was the Republic of Edonia, a volatile Eastern European nation. This town, Roples, was a cesspool of lowlifes, caught in a tense stalemate between government forces and local factions.
In his previous life, Eastern Europe had stabilized, but here it was a different story. What had caused this divergence? Li Yexing pondered, and then it hit him—the turning point of this world: the Raccoon City Incident.
In September 1998, the small American town of Raccoon City suffered the world's first biohazard outbreak. To contain the crisis, the U.S. government launched Operation Double Track in early October, leveling the city with a tactical nuclear strike. The culprit, Umbrella Corporation, collapsed soon after. But Umbrella's legacy—its bioweapons—spread like wildfire on the black market, turning the world into a gallery of horrors.
"This is… unreal. I've actually transmigrated into the Resident Evil world? Talk about a crap deal."
Li Yexing gave a bitter chuckle. Resident Evil was his favorite game series in his past life—he knew its story like the back of his hand. Maybe it was some cosmic prank, but now he was living it for real.
In his previous life, Li Yexing was a working-class otaku. Outside of his grueling job, he spent his time gaming and binge-watching anime. After dropping out of high school, his dad had given him 5,000 yuan and kicked him out with a gruff, "You're not in school anymore—why should I keep supporting you?"
Determined to prove himself, Li Yexing rented a place and scraped by. After a tough first month, his life had stabilized—barely. A year later, he found himself here. Forget the overpowered monsters and protagonists of Resident Evil for a moment; the immediate problem was dire enough. This wasn't the peaceful China he knew. Edonia was a political powder keg, and Roples was a den of villains where honest folks couldn't survive. To make matters worse, this world's Li Yexing was a reckless spendthrift who blew every penny he had. Right now, his bank account was practically empty. His only shot at fixing his financial mess was the armed escort job in a few days.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Li Yexing pulled it out and saw a text: "$100,000 deposited. Final payment upon mission completion."
Money in the bank. Was that why the old Li Yexing spent so freely—because he knew this payment was coming?
No way to know what that guy was thinking. Li Yexing shrugged, a habit from his past life, and glanced around the barely functional "office." What a dump.
So, he spent the afternoon cleaning. He swept cigarette butts and beer cans into a trash bag, organized the files neatly on the desk, closed the sleazy webpage, and played some music. He stripped the bed of its grimy sheets and tossed them into the washing machine with his dirty clothes. All that was left was the storage room.
Opening the storage room door, even the emotionally dulled Li Yexing couldn't help but gasp. Holy crap—boxes of ammo, random gear, a rack of assorted handguns, and two AR-15s hanging on the wall. His calm heart stirred. These weren't toy guns; they were the real deal. He reached for one of the rifles, its body painted white, scuffed from use. Red Chinese characters were scrawled on the side: Only God Has Mercy.
Li Yexing suddenly wondered what this world's version of himself had been through. He carefully wiped down each weapon and piece of equipment, arranged them neatly, and mopped the floor. Finally, he threw open the curtains and windows, letting chilly fresh air flood the room.
"Ah, that's the stuff!"
Shirtless, he stretched outside, looking at the dimly lit streets. With money in hand, the room cleaned, and dinner time approaching, it was time to eat.
Roples at night was a world apart from the one Li Yexing knew. Armed pedestrians were everywhere, women stood under streetlights soliciting customers, and cops and thugs chatted like old friends. It was a bizarre yet oddly fitting scene.
"Li~"
A woman called out from the street, her voice sultry. "Coming to play tonight, darling? I got some new toys you'll love." She licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with invitation.
Li Yexing's memories clicked—her name was Therese. He waved her off politely. "Nah, I'm broke."
"Aw, what a shame. Brand-new toys, too. I was hoping you'd be the first to try them," Therese sighed, her voice dripping with charm. She ran a finger between her cleavage and shot him a wink.
Before Li Yexing could respond, a burly, tattooed bald man swaggered over, wrapping an arm around Therese. "What's so great about that Asian guy? I'll keep you company tonight," he teased, groping her.
Therese giggled, glancing back at Li Yexing. "Oops, got a customer tonight. Come find me another time, Li!" She winked again and disappeared into a building with the bald man.
In his past life, Li Yexing was a virgin. But this world's Li Yexing had apparently worked his way through every woman on this street before his consciousness took over. The contrast left him with a weird feeling—somewhere between having been there and not. Schrödinger's hookup, maybe?
Whatever. Clearing his mind of strange thoughts, he followed his memories to his usual diner.
The diner owner greeted him warmly. "Yo, Li! Been a while. Zamber said you were dead."
Recalling who Zamber was, Li Yexing plopped into a chair, tapping the table lightly with his finger. Following the instincts of this body's memories, he ordered with ease. "Big steak, ice-cold beer. And tell Zamber if he spreads rumors again, I'll yank his tongue out."
Soon, a massive steak was set before him, accompanied by a frosty mug of beer. The owner rattled off the price.
"Put it on my tab. Bank's closed—I'll get cash tomorrow."
"Dammit!" the owner cursed, pointing to a shotgun behind the counter. "Anyone else tried that, they'd be eating lead."
Li Yexing took a long swig of beer. "Thanks."
The owner, about to walk away, spun back around, staring at Li Yexing with wide eyes, making him uncomfortable.
"What?" Li Yexing frowned.
"Nothing… just feels like you're different today. In a good mood?"
"Nope. Your imagination." Li Yexing popped a piece of steak into his mouth, and his expression immediately twisted.
"Ha! Added that fruit sauce you love. Pretty good, right?"
Suppressing the riot in his taste buds, Li Yexing set down his knife and fork, lost in thought. His silence irked the owner. "What, not to your taste? Too bad—this is my place, and you're paying whether you like it or not."
"I'm not skipping out," Li Yexing said, shaking his head. Staring at the glossy steak under the light, he couldn't help but think: What the hell is this garbage?
His memories told Li Yexing that this was indeed his favorite flavor in this world, but to the current Li Yexing, the plate of food in front of him was, frankly, godawful. Turns out, he wasn't a fan of Western cuisine.
Fork in hand, under the diner owner's puzzled stare, Li Yexing shoveled the steak into his mouth, bite by painful bite. His taste buds screamed in protest, practically staging a revolt, but he clung to his principle of never wasting food. Chugging his beer, he powered through and cleaned the plate, vowing that starting tomorrow, unless absolutely necessary, he'd cook his own meals.
Standing up and brushing off his pants, Li Yexing prepared to leave. The owner tapped the table lightly, a reminder: "Don't forget you're on credit." Without turning, Li Yexing waved a hand to show he understood. As he pushed open the door, a tall man brushed past him, squeezing into the diner.
"Gimme an ice-cold beer," the man said to the owner, settling into a seat with his back to Li Yexing.
Li Yexing stole a glance. The man had a sharp, close-cropped haircut and wore heavy clothing that couldn't hide his muscular build. He was like a tiger poised to pounce, his frame radiating power, as if his muscles might burst through his clothes at any moment.
Unable to make sense of him, Li Yexing pushed through the door and left.