Inside the abandoned factory.

Freshly harvested dried rose leaves had been piled into a small mountain in the open yard. Around it stood the refugees whose consciousness Bai Liu had restored earlier, all staring blankly at the enormous cache of contraband that had been transported there that very morning.

Several refugees, drenched in sweat, leaned against the pile and wiped their hands as they caught their breath. They were the former Rose Factory workers Bai Liu had taken away that morning to help dry the petals—now unemployed refugees struggling to survive.

This mountain of dried roses had been brought back by them.

One refugee looked at the sheer quantity of flowers and paled.

“How did you manage to steal so many roses?” he asked in horror. “If the factory finds out, you’ll all be executed!”

“Yeah! Hurry and take them back!”

“Stealing more than one kilogram of dried roses doesn’t just get the thief shot. Even their descendants won’t be allowed to work in any rose-related industry!”

Ever since dried rose leaf gas had spread across the world, governments had passed a series of laws under pressure from organizations connected to the Rose Factory, all in the name of protecting the precious and limited resource of dried roses.

Though heavily disputed at first, those laws were ultimately enacted.

Under them, any civilian who attacked dried roses or promoted the idea that they were harmful could be fined and detained.

The exclusive copyright for perfumes derived from dried rose leaf gas was protected for ten million years and could not be shared.

Privately researching perfume formulas was classified as a serious violation and carried fines exceeding ten million yuan.

Most importantly, any ordinary citizen caught stealing, smuggling, illegally trading, or possessing more than one kilogram of dried roses—or more than one bottle but fewer than five bottles of low-grade dried rose gas—could be sentenced to death.

If the Rose Factory agreed to negotiate privately, the sentence could be reduced to life imprisonment with hard labor.

In practical terms, this meant the condemned person could be handed over directly to the Rose Factory.

Whether they lived or died afterward was entirely up to the factory.

When the law was first introduced, nearly half the world protested its severity.

Yet almost nobody questioned whether such punishment should exist at all.

As dried roses became more widespread and their prices continued to rise, more and more people found themselves unable to afford the gas. Public dissatisfaction grew louder and louder.

The Rose Factory responded by introducing a new policy.

Anyone who reported neighbors, relatives, or acquaintances for illegally possessing dried roses or researching perfume formulas would receive ten years of free perfume.

The result was immediate.

People began turning on one another.

At its peak, the reporting hotline allegedly received over one hundred thousand calls in a single day.

Using the flood of reports as justification, the Rose Factory launched massive investigations and crackdowns. Countless civilians were punished.

Gradually, the voices of resistance faded.

Eventually, almost no one questioned the rules anymore.

Over time, people went from fiercely opposing the system to feeling fear simply at the sight of a pile of stolen roses.

They feared not only the law itself.

They feared one another.

The reporting reward still existed to this day.

Although it had been reduced from ten years of perfume to one year, the hotline continued to receive a constant stream of calls.

There had even been desperate parents and children who knowingly stole dried roses themselves, then forced family members to report them so their loved ones could obtain the reward and survive.

But no one openly discussed that reason anymore.

“Whether I die doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

One of the refugees who had transported the roses finally straightened up and looked around at the frightened crowd with a bitter smile.

“Mr. Bai risked his life to get these roses out for us. If he wasn’t afraid of death, why should we be?”

Another refugee stood up.

Leaning against the roses, he looked around with determination in his eyes.

“Mr. Bai could have lived comfortably as a processing worker. Instead, he chose to risk everything to help us.”

“He even placed such a tremendous weakness directly into our hands.”

“He truly trusts us.”

“He trusts people as worthless and miserable as us.”

Silence descended.

The crowd's gaze gradually settled on the pile of roses.

Heavy.

Complicated.

“I know everyone here has suffered,” the man continued. “I know you're all afraid.”

The other porters stood up one after another beside him.

“We talked about it while transporting these flowers.”

“If any of you truly want that one-year perfume reward from the reporting system...”

He looked at the refugees' pale, damaged faces.

“Then report us.”

“We were the ones who moved the flowers.”

“At the very least, we can't allow a good man who stood up for us to die because of it.”

His eyes reddened.

“In this world, trying to be a good person has become a crime.”

“That's why nobody dares anymore.”

His voice caught in his throat.

Wiping the corners of his eyes, he laughed softly.

“Now that we've finally met someone like Mr. Bai, the next person like him may not appear until after my daughter and grandson are already dead.”

“I don't want him to die.”

“He's too rare.”

When he finished speaking, nobody moved.

The factory yard fell completely silent.

One minute passed.

Then two.

Finally, someone stepped forward.

It was the young woman who had questioned Bai Liu while holding her child.

She handed the child to someone beside her, took a deep breath, and walked toward the roses.

Bending down, she scooped a large armful into her embrace.

Then she turned around.

“This definitely exceeds one kilogram.”

The flowers in her arms brought a trace of color to her corpse-like face.

“If someone needs to be blamed, blame me.”

“It has nothing to do with Mr. Bai.”

“If you want to report someone, report me.”

She tightened her grip on the roses.

“I believe Mr. Bai will create a new world for my child.”

“A world where stealing roses is no longer punishable by death.” 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

The roses reflected in her eyes burned like flames.

“I am willing to die for that world.”

Something changed in the crowd.

Slowly.

Hesitantly.

One refugee after another approached the mountain of roses.

As though finally making up their minds.

They stepped forward and embraced armful after armful of flowers.

Against their chests, the eternal dried roses bloomed brilliantly like fire.

“So this kilogram is mine...”

“There are three adults in my family. Give me three kilograms...”

“Can I take ten kilograms?”

“It's a death sentence either way. It can't get any worse...”

The mountain of roses gradually disappeared.

In its place remained countless small bouquets held in the arms of the refugees.

Standing in the empty factory yard, they resembled actors receiving flowers after the final performance of a play.

A play called Resistance.

As thanks for their wholehearted and passionate performance, Bai Liu had gifted every nameless actor a bouquet of dried roses.

The porter who had spoken first stared blankly at the scene.

For years, every attempt at resistance had eventually collapsed because of the reporting reward.

All he had done was follow Mr. Bai's instructions exactly.

And yet—

Not a single person had reported the theft of over a thousand kilograms of roses.

The porter remembered the conversation from that morning.

While secretly transporting the flowers, he had expressed his concerns to Bai Liu.

The workers helping with the transport could be trusted.

But what about everyone else?

Reporting was impossible to prevent.

And Bai Liu, as the leader, would inevitably become the first target.

Standing beneath the sunlight, Bai Liu had lifted his eyes.

The rose blooming in his right eye possessed a vitality and beauty unlike anything the refugee had ever seen.

Wearing that familiar smile, Bai Liu asked:

“Why would we want to stop it?”

The refugee had been stunned.

“If we can't stop people from reporting us, then everything we're trying to do will fail.”

“First,” Bai Liu replied calmly, “human beings are fundamentally self-interested.”

“No one sacrifices their own immediate benefit for someone else's goal without a reason.”

“That would be irrational.”

“So the act of reporting for profit cannot be eliminated at its root.”

He glanced at the refugee.

“Second, you've misunderstood something from the very beginning.”

“I'm not leading you.”

“You are the protagonists of this matter.”

“I'm merely a manager who sold you a solution.”

“You are the ones who paid the price.”

He paused.

“To completely eliminate the problem of informing, every person involved must become a participant in the resistance.”

“Not me.”

“Not some distant symbol.”

“You.”

“When everyone gains the greatest benefit from success, the logic behind reporting ceases to function.”

Bai Liu looked directly at him.

“What you need to do is convince everyone that they are not merely witnesses to the crime.”

“They are participants.”

“The person they would be reporting includes themselves.”

The refugee had stared blankly.

“Then... what should I do?”

“How do I convince them?”

At that moment, the corners of Bai Liu's lips curved upward.

A warm, friendly smile appeared on his face.

The kind of smile that would make Mu Shicheng, Mu Ke, Liu Jiayi, and Tang Erda instinctively feel a chill run down their spines.

“If it were me,” Bai Liu said, “I'd probably say something like this...”

Standing in the factory now, the refugee looked around in a daze.

Everything had unfolded exactly as Bai Liu predicted.

Step by step.

Word for word.

Bai Liu had even instructed him to emphasize children and future generations.

He had specifically told him to maintain eye contact with the mother who questioned him the day before.

Because she would become the first person to step forward.

And once the first person moved—

Once the first window was broken—

The rest would follow naturally.

“It wasn't a difficult task to begin with,” Bai Liu had said indifferently.

“A community with shared interests that has been pushed to the absolute limit is the easiest group in the world to mobilize.”

Because they had already reached the bottom.

There was nothing left to lose.