The refugees divided the roses and weighed them.
The pile totaled roughly 1,400 kilograms.
Bai Liu had already exhausted both his own and Liu Jiayi’s 900-kilogram requisition quotas. Aside from the 360 kilograms reserved for Liu Jiayi, every remaining rose had been secretly transported here by Bai Liu.
After the flowers had been distributed, several refugees looked toward the transporters in confusion.
“What does Mr. Bai intend to do with so many roses?”
“Mr. Bai plans to process them himself,” one of the transporters explained. “He wants to produce perfume and distribute it to the refugees as quickly as possible to relieve more people’s symptoms.”
Had someone proposed making perfume before today, these refugees would have turned pale and begged them to stop immediately.
But after everything that had happened, the idea now seemed perfectly natural.
Someone asked cautiously,
“Has Mr. Bai already obtained the perfume formula?”
The Rose Factory’s dominance rested on two pillars.
The first was its exclusive cultivation of dried-leaf roses.
The second was the secret formula used to create Rose Dried Leaf Gas.
Once a dried-leaf rose was picked, its fragrance dissipated rapidly. Unless it was immediately processed, concentrated, and preserved as perfume, its scent would survive for only a few dozen minutes at most.
The journey from the flower fields to the abandoned factory already exceeded that time limit.
At this moment, the fragrance of the roses piled in the factory had become so faint that one would have to bury their face in the flowers to smell it.
And even that lingering scent was meaningless to dying refugees.
It certainly could not save lives.
Ordinarily, reproducing a perfume is not particularly difficult.
If a fragrance is known to be derived from a single flower, then even if the exact formula cannot be replicated, the flower can still be processed through drying, distillation, extraction, and dehydration to produce essential oils capable of preserving the fragrance for long periods.
Even a crude product like that would be enough to distribute among the refugees.
Unfortunately, countless people had already tried.
Many had risked their lives studying dried-leaf roses and experimenting with methods of producing Dried Leaf Gas.
None had succeeded.
Even when they correctly reproduced the basic processing stages, the resulting oils retained their fragrance for no more than half an hour.
And that was with the bottle sealed.
The moment it was opened, the scent vanished completely.
Only the Rose Factory’s perfume, Rose Dried Leaf Gas, could preserve the roses’ fragrance for extended periods.
That alone was enough to prove that the later stages of production were fundamentally different from any conventional perfume-making process.
“Mr. Bai hasn’t obtained the secret formula yet,” the transporter admitted with a sigh.
“He’s still only a processing worker. Only perfumers have access to the formula.”
As a former employee of the Rose Factory, he remembered certain rumors.
“It’s said that only the Factory Manager possesses the complete formula for Rose Dried Leaf Gas.”
“Then what are we supposed to do with all these roses?”
“Mr. Bai instructed us to prepare them into semi-finished products first.”
The transporter pointed toward the surrounding buildings.
“There are plenty of experienced workers here. Many of the nearby factories used to be unauthorized perfume-processing facilities that copied Rose Factory products before they were shut down for infringement.”
“The equipment was never removed.”
“We can use it.”
Someone frowned.
“But what if we finish processing everything and Mr. Bai still hasn’t obtained the formula?”
“The semi-finished products only retain their medicinal effect for three days.”
“None of us were ever high-ranking workers. We don’t know what comes after this stage, or even what containers should be used.”
“If we can’t proceed further, all of it will be wasted.”
The transporter inhaled deeply.
“Mr. Bai said that within three days, he’ll become a factory worker.”
“And when that happens, he’ll tell us what to do next.”
He clapped his hands together.
“Let’s get started.”
***
Late that night.
Flower Fields.
Liu Jiayi sat at the edge of the fields, pulling on a flower picker’s protective suit.
Beside her, Qi Yifang silently dressed as well.
After following her around all day without a word, he now sat beside her in the same silence.
Qi Yifang had given up his promotion opportunity.
Like Liu Jiayi, he had been demoted back to flower picker.
After fastening the suit, Liu Jiayi pulled her hair free from the collar and adjusted the Blizzard Goggles covering her eyes.
Then she lifted her head and looked calmly at Qi Yifang through the lenses.
Seeing the oversized protective gear he had given her—a mask nearly half the size of her face—Qi Yifang felt a complicated knot form in his chest.
Even now, he still couldn't determine whether this Little Witch was real or fake.
Her actions often resembled Bai Liu’s.
Yet at times she carried a strange childishness, a faintly pampered air that belonged to a young girl.
Eventually, he sighed.
“As long as we complete the minimum quota of forty kilograms, we won’t lose our jobs and become refugees.”
He hesitated.
The indifference Liu Jiayi showed him—whether genuine or deliberate—made him uncomfortable.
Still, he spoke.
“If you can’t gather enough flowers later, take some from me.”
“If you need help...”
His voice softened.
“I won’t go far.”
“Just call me.”
With that, Qi Yifang lifted his sack and prepared to leave.
But before he walked away completely, he stopped.
Without turning around, he spoke in a low voice.
“Whatever you need to do away from my small TV...”
“Just do it.”
“I won’t look.”
Then he slung the sack over his shoulder and strode away without hesitation.
Liu Jiayi blinked.
She quietly watched his retreating figure.
The grey mist swirling within her eyes concealed emotions no one could decipher.
As night deepened, writhing tentacles began emerging beneath the flower fields.
The grotesque Rose Refugees returned once more.
Yet Liu Jiayi made no move whatsoever.
After Qi Yifang departed, she walked to a tent far from the fields and lay down inside.
Then she activated a small Magic Space around herself.
By sealing the area and preventing any creature from entering, she completely protected herself.
Liu Jiayi yawned leisurely.
Rather than heading into the fields to harvest roses, she appeared fully prepared to sleep.
Magic Space possessed limitations on both size and duration.
The smaller the enclosed area, the longer it could remain active.
A Magic Space barely large enough to contain Liu Jiayi herself could theoretically last until sunrise.
From a survival standpoint, it was an excellent decision.
From a productivity standpoint, it was disastrous.
She had already been demoted.
She no longer possessed a stable income.
Meanwhile, the demand for perfume among the refugees was rapidly increasing.
Under such circumstances, spending the entire night asleep seemed absurdly unwise.
Had Qi Yifang been slightly more suspicious—or merely unable to suppress his curiosity—he would have turned around, noticed Liu Jiayi doing absolutely nothing, and rushed over in shock.
In this game, perfume was equivalent to mental bleach.
Failing to work meant failing to acquire perfume.
And without perfume, madness was inevitable.
Unfortunately for him, Qi Yifang kept his promise.
Using powerful gusts of wind, the Weather Forecaster swept away approaching Rose Refugees while never once turning his head toward Liu Jiayi’s section of the field.
Before long, however, something unexpected happened.
Figures began appearing throughout Liu Jiayi’s territory.
Refugees carrying baskets on their backs slipped into the fields.
Their movements were astonishingly fast.
Like flashes of lightning, they harvested dried-leaf roses at incredible speed.
They moved cautiously along the edges of the fields, avoiding the tentacles beneath their feet and the thieves who might steal their harvest.
Their fingers danced across the rose bushes.
In only a second or two, every finger joint was filled with freshly picked roses.
Most of them were former flower pickers.
For one reason or another, they had lost their jobs and become refugees.
That morning, while transporting roses back to the factory, the porters had asked them a simple question:
Would anyone be willing to help Mr. Bai steal roses during the night?
In the past, the answer would have been no.
Tonight was different.
The refugees worked with frantic enthusiasm.
If possible, they would have stripped the entire flower field bare before dawn.
Their eyes gleamed with excitement.
If Bai Liu successfully advanced to factory worker—
If he eventually became Factory Manager—
If he obtained the complete formula for Rose Dried Leaf Gas—
Then every rose they harvested tonight could become perfume.
And that perfume would be distributed to them.
They might finally survive.
Driven by that hope, they became increasingly alert.
Increasingly efficient.
While harvesting, they constantly scanned their surroundings.
They avoided attacks from Rose Refugees.
They avoided being discovered by flower pickers.
Most importantly, they avoided being reported.
Fortunately, Liu Jiayi was responsible for this section of the fields.
The transporters had informed them beforehand.
Only after learning that this area was safe had they dared venture out under cover of darkness.
In the past, flower pickers had been the most ruthless enemies of rose thieves.
Nothing enraged a flower picker more than seeing their harvest stolen.
If too many roses disappeared, supervisors might fine them.
Or dismiss them entirely.
But tonight, everything had reversed.
As these former flower pickers watched the roses accumulating in their arms, many felt almost dizzy.
For the first time in their lives, harvesting roses felt rewarding.
Joyful, even.
Because the fruits of their labor no longer flowed upward through endless layers of exploitation.
This time, the roses belonged to them.
The results belonged to them.
It was a feeling they had never experienced before.
These ordinary people had spent their entire lives enduring fear, pain, and uncertainty.
Working desperately simply to avoid unemployment and starvation.
They had never known what it felt like to truly own the rewards of their labor.
Now they did.
And all of it existed because of Bai Liu.
By the time dawn approached, the refugees were exhausted.
Their faces were pale.
Their legs trembled.
Yet every one of them wore a satisfied smile.
Silently, they made their way to the tent area.
Finding the correct tent, they carefully approached.
Then, with reverence bordering on devotion, they placed a portion of their harvested dried-leaf roses outside the entrance where Liu Jiayi slept.
This was the payment they were willing to offer.
