In the end, Tang Erda still did not pull the trigger.

The factory worker told him that this was the only way for him to be promoted to factory worker, and afterward to perfumer. It was the core instrument that sustained the entire operation of the Rose Factory.

Tang Erda had reason to believe that this miraculous heart was also connected to the main task of this game—[Become the Factory Manager].

When he saw this heart, he felt an uncontrollable killing intent, as if it had been drawn out from the bottom of his heart.

This was abnormal.

It was as though something was deliberately making him harbor murderous thoughts, which made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Furthermore, regarding this heart—what if it was not the monster he had judged it to be, but merely the heart of an innocent person that had been contaminated?

Tang Erda had encountered such things before.

So, after thinking for a moment, he suppressed the sudden surge of killing intent in his heart, calmly lowered his gun, and decided to find the source of the game’s pollution before making a judgment.

Under the guidance of the factory worker, Tang Erda took a bottle of rose raw liquid and walked up the steps to pour it in.

The employee responsible for guarding the instrument watched Tang Erda’s hand with extreme tension, his own hand resting on the water gate, ready to pull it down at any moment.

Bai Liu’s earlier commotion had left a considerable shadow over him.

The perfume raw liquid Tang Erda dripped in only emitted a faint layer of rose-red.

The factory worker and the guard who were waiting for the result both felt disappointed, but they also let out a sigh of relief.

It was still a decent result.

It was only that, compared with the previous processing worker’s test, the difference was too great.

“Your talent isn’t very great, but it isn’t completely hopeless for you to be promoted to factory worker either. The May Rose Festival is approaching, and we are very short on factory workers.”

The factory worker who had led Tang Erda in raised his head and looked at him.

“You still need to go through one more scent strip test. If it is determined that you have a certain basic talent, you can become a regular employee.”

Tang Erda frowned.

“What scent strip test?”

At the same time, in the factory worker’s office on the third floor.

Bai Liu raised his eyes to look at the factory worker supervisor behind the desk.

“What does the scent strip test refer to?”

The factory worker supervisor replied, “It is a test used to further confirm whether your talent is special enough for you to be promoted to perfumer. Mainly, we no longer dare to take risks with the instrument. Although the precision of the scent strip audit is not as high as that of the instrument, it can still determine an approximate range.”

“However, judging from your destructive power toward the instrument, it is very likely that you will break the scent strip during the test.”

The factory worker supervisor crossed his fingers on the desk.

He looked directly at Bai Liu and tapped the application form on the table with one finger.

“Although scent strips are non-renewable, precious resources for any perfumer, if your talent is truly as remarkable as this application says, then it is worth risking the loss of one scent strip to conduct a re-test on you.”

One scent strip?

That strange measure word made Bai Liu raise an eyebrow.

Bai Liu had seen scent strips at perfume counters in some malls before. In his impression, a scent strip was a stiff paper strip similar to a pH test strip, with good absorbency that allowed it to better absorb perfume and retain the scent for a long time.

Holding a scent strip stained with perfume about ten centimeters from the tip of the nose and fanning it made it easier to smell the pure perfume or the fragrance of its ingredients. It ought to be a common tool in the perfumery industry.

But no matter what, the measure word for such a test strip should be “piece” or “sheet,” not “individual” or “one.”

Bai Liu did not object. He simply waited for the factory supervisor to continue.

“Next, if your body is unharmed, we will proceed with the inspection.”

The factory supervisor nodded to the worker who had led Bai Liu to the instrument test, then turned back to Bai Liu.

“I will have this person take you down to the negative first floor, which is where the scent strips and the rose death row prisoners are kept, to carry out the scent strip test.”

With that, the supervisor handed a bunch of keys to the worker and said,

“Take him down to have a look.”

As for the rose death row prisoners, Bai Liu actually knew what was going on.

He had already received a briefing about this concept from that group of refugees before.

Prisoners who violated the death penalty regulations related to dried leaf roses—if the Rose Factory was willing to take them over and accept these prisoners using a certain kind of labor in exchange for their right to survive—could have their sentences converted to life imprisonment. The Rose Factory would then take full control over these people’s right to life and the right to use their lives.

But keeping scent strips... and that measure word, “one”...

A faintly unpleasant feeling rose in Bai Liu’s heart.

He thought of a setting he did not like very much, as well as the game designer’s playful malice toward him from beginning to end, and the smile on Bai Liu’s face faded considerably.

The factory worker led Bai Liu downstairs.

They passed through the long corridor they had come from, and before reaching the corridor leading to the dormitory, they turned at an extremely dark corner.

There was a wooden door there.

It carried a smell completely different from the fragrance of the entire Rose Factory. It was not fragrant at all. Instead, it gave off an especially foul stench.

The worker took out the bunch of keys, selected one, and inserted it into the wooden door.

With a creak, the door slowly opened inward.

A wave of sour sweat from flesh and clothing rushed toward them, smelling somewhat like biogas.

The wooden door faced a flight of steps descending into deep, bottomless darkness.

The stone walls on both sides of the staircase were extremely narrow. Dim yellow light bulbs had been installed at intervals, but their illuminating effect was almost negligible. Bai Liu glanced down and could see, at most, ten meters before everything became too dark.

As though prepared for this situation, the worker had brought a flashlight when coming down. He led Bai Liu forward through its light.

As they walked, the worker began explaining to Bai Liu:

“This is the negative first floor of the factory. Only senior factory workers and perfumers are qualified to enter this place.”

Bai Liu estimated that they had walked down about twenty meters before they finally reached the bottom.

He raised his eyes and saw a structure very close to a prison.

In the middle of the damp, gloomy underground space was a narrow path. On the left and right were iron bars resembling cages, embedded one after another into the walls and extending inward. Inside them were all kinds of death row prisoners who looked neither human nor ghost.

The reason Bai Liu described them this way was because, like the refugees he had seen in the rose fields, they no longer looked human.

These death row prisoners made indistinct sounds, seemingly wanting to reach out and grab Bai Liu and the worker passing through the central aisle. But they were so weak that they essentially could not move. They could only watch helplessly as the worker led Bai Liu past, struggling feebly on the ground a couple of times before letting out mournful, desperate howls.

Those howls even made Bai Liu feel that their reaching hands were not asking for help, but begging for a quick end.

Some were already dead, lying on their backs on the ground with their eyes open and mouths agape. They had rotted into scraps of flesh that had hatched maggots, and flies buzzed around their bodies—no doubt hatched from the maggots on the corpses.

What was rather eerie was that most of the corpses here, if they still retained structures through which expressions could be seen, wore satisfied smiles on their faces.

It was as if living had been an infinitely painful and agonizing thing for them. They seemed to have waited for the moment of death for a very, very long time, and now, at last, they had attained such happiness.

Bai Liu’s gaze slowly swept over these death row prisoners who had committed rose crimes, trying to read something from their expressions.

The worker seemed to notice Bai Liu’s gaze and could not help but defend the situation with a few words.

“The factory does not have any hobby of mistreating these death row prisoners. After the factory takes over these prisoners, we give them incense almost every day to keep them alive. This treatment is better than what most flower pickers receive.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Bai Liu retorted indifferently.

“Speaking that way, you are quite the philanthropists, giving incense to these criminals for free. Why not ask them whether they want to die, or whether they want to be taken over by you?”

The worker was choked silent by Bai Liu’s lukewarm words and did not speak.

The Rose Factory was absolutely not a factory that would waste perfume doing good deeds.

They did not take over all death row prisoners, only some of them. This alone indicated a problem.

From the perspective of profit, some characteristic of these death row prisoners taken over by the Rose Factory must be beneficial to the factory’s development.

At first, Bai Liu had not been clear on what this “benefit” was.

After all, from any angle, spending perfume to keep people with extremely low labor capacity alive did not seem like a smart business deal.

But now, he finally understood what this “benefit” was.

The worker remained silent for a while. Then he sighed and spoke somewhat awkwardly:

“...These death row prisoners are specially selected by the factory. They are people who possess a certain degree of resistance to rose perfume.”

“...Even when these people are corroded by the perfume, they do not easily display symptoms of addiction. They maintain themselves, adhere to their original intentions, and would rather die than easily submit to Dried Rose Leaf Gas. In fact, the reason most of them were arrested for crimes was because they were attempting to develop an antidote to rose perfume.”

The worker fell quiet again for a moment before continuing:

“When most people have already succumbed to the addictiveness of rose perfume, aside from the instrument, it becomes very difficult for us to use ordinary perfume scent strips to specifically test the concentration and longevity of a particular rose perfume.”

“Because perfumers, as a group already deeply addicted, find it very difficult to distinguish the quality of a perfume through their own reactions to it. Most perfumers have become numb to the scent because they use high-concentration rose perfume day and night.”

“But as you saw, the instrument is extremely precious. We cannot activate the instrument to test perfume at any time.”

“At such times, we need a group of people who can resist rose perfume and who are more sensitive to and more repulsed by it as experimental subjects. Through these people’s painful reactions, we infer the strength of the perfume. We call this type of person a ‘scent strip.’”

As the worker spoke, he led Bai Liu deeper inside.

“The ones you saw just now are scent strips that are about to be scrapped. They can barely hold on anymore, but they can still be used once or twice. However, because you are taking a special passage this time, the scent strip you will be using is one of our factory’s most veteran scent strips.”

At this point, the worker sighed.

“These veteran scent strips are also nearly finished. I heard that yesterday, for the May Rose Festival, a perfumer tested a bottle of top-grade perfume and scrapped another one. That one has already been transferred to the low-level peripheral area. But the one you are using this time is the highest-quality scent strip in our factory. He seems to be in fairly good spirits, and his rejection reaction to rose perfume is very stable.”

At this point, the worker could not help exclaiming:

“I have never seen someone who can reject rose perfume so stably. He is already in that much pain, yet his rejection of rose perfume has never changed. Such steadfastness of will is truly admirable.”

“For the May Rose Festival, several bottles of top-grade perfume have already been tested on him. Although his body has shown signs of poisoning and organ failure, and he has weakened a great deal, his rejection reaction has not changed for ten years.”

“I even wonder whether this kind of person is truly human. He is simply too stubborn.”

Bai Liu did not say a word.

He looked at the death row prisoners around him, his eyes growing darker and deeper.

Finally, he said very softly:

“I also think... he is too stubborn.”

The worker did not hear Bai Liu’s words clearly and turned to ask him,

“What did you say?”

This time, Bai Liu did not answer him.

The worker continued leading him inward.

As the tunnel grew darker, the cages on the left and right became larger, and the living facilities inside became more complete, looking more like rooms meant for a person to live in temporarily.

Finally, the worker stopped beside an independent cage.

This cage was larger. The bed was placed at the very back. The “scent strip” inside was hidden in the darkness and could not be seen clearly. One could only vaguely make out a hunched human silhouette sitting beside the bed.

Compared with the others, this cage was much cleaner.

Two faded, yellowed old garments hung on the bars, and on the table inside, several books, papers, pens, and a few scattered cigarette boxes were neatly arranged. The cigarette boxes were already empty.

The worker who had led Bai Liu here looked at this cage—so clean it did not resemble a dungeon—with a complicated expression.

“...He cleaned it himself again... He really does not look like someone who has been a scent strip for so long. To think he can still maintain this degree of rationality.”

“This is the scent strip for your test today.”

The worker pulled out a key and inserted it into the lock.

At the same time, in another tunnel separated by a wall, another worker was leading Tang Erda inward, incessantly and proudly explaining this dungeon of the Rose Factory.

Tang Erda looked at the death row prisoners in these cages, his brows furrowing so deeply they could crush a fly.

He had subconsciously drawn his gun the moment he saw these death row prisoners, who looked so much like rose refugees. But very quickly, he realized the difference between these prisoners and the rose refugees.

And this difference made his brows furrow even more.

—These people, even though they had been corroded and polluted by the perfume to this extent, were actually all conscious.

They were struggling desperately against the rose perfume that was corroding their consciousness.

This worker walked in front of Tang Erda, tapping the iron door of a cage while saying enviously:

“You’re lucky, kid. This is a veteran scent strip that is about to be scrapped. Yesterday, a high-level perfumer tested a bottle of top-grade perfume on him and used him up. Now he looks half-dead, just right for your test.”

Tang Erda turned to look into this gloomy, hazy cage.

There were no lights in the dungeon, and visibility was extremely low. He could only roughly see a human shadow leaning against the wall, the person’s body rising and falling weakly with each breath.

A stench almost identical to rot emanated from this person, causing the worker to wave his hand in front of his nose in disgust.

This person—or rather, this scent strip—had only one arm and half of his face protruding from the shadows into the faint light. Tang Erda could barely make it out, so he looked up at the other person’s hand and face.

The hand was almost entirely split open and blooming. Black, blood-like patterns spread all the way from the tiger’s mouth between the thumb and forefinger to the elbow.

The exposed half of the face was even more unrecognizable, peeled and bloody. The light-colored pupils were dilated, staring at Tang Erda outside the bars without the slightest focus.

For a moment, an unspeakable terror surged into Tang Erda’s heart.

This half-face, this half-mangled face—he seemed to have seen it before in some nightmarish timeline. It made the hand Tang Erda held his gun with tremble uncontrollably, almost convulsively.

Tang Erda’s chest was still heaving violently, but his breathing had nearly stopped.

As if frozen, he stood in place without moving, staring straight at that face.

The handgun slipped from his palm, turning into points of light as it fell to the ground.

But the worker did not notice Tang Erda’s abnormality.

He inserted the key into the keyhole.

The doors covered in dust and rust slowly opened in front of Bai Liu and Tang Erda at the same time.

The worker stepped aside to let Bai Liu, who was behind him, see the scene inside the cage. He handed Bai Liu the flashlight and tilted his head, signaling for him to go inside. The worker waited outside and explained:

“The rose smell on us is too strong and would interfere with the scent strip. Generally, it is enough for one person to go in.”

“After you go in, this scent strip will teach you how to test your talent. He is very experienced and has a good temper. He will not attack you.”

The worker thought for a moment and added,

“Although this scent strip sometimes says very strange things to the people who come to test, overall, he is very cooperative.”

Bai Liu nodded to show that he understood.

He very calmly took the flashlight the worker handed him, adjusted it to maximum brightness, and stepped into the cage one step at a time.

As Bai Liu walked in, the beam of the flashlight slowly moved from the ground toward the bed.

In the pale halo of light, the first thing that appeared was an old leather shoe that Bai Liu found somewhat familiar, followed by a pair of faded uniform trousers.

As the light moved further up, one could see a person holding an unlit cigarette butt, sitting beside the bed with his head lowered.

This person’s face and arms were already completely deformed.

The finger joints were exposed, filled with bones that had grown tentacles. The sound of his breathing was so faint it was almost nonexistent.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes protruding, and the sides of his originally square, handsome face were sunken in, as if he had not eaten meat for decades. He was so thin that he was almost only a skeleton.

Even in their most miserable times, Bai Liu had never seen him look like this.

Even when this person had been in the welfare home and had given a great deal of food to Bai Liu, he had never been starved to such a haggard state.

Only his eyes remained the same.

Gentle and firm.

Not a single rose grew inside them.

Bai Liu finally spoke.

He pointed the flashlight at the person’s head, his tone devoid of any fluctuation.

“Lu Yizhan, you’re finally out of money for cigarettes, aren’t you?”

The person finally raised his head.

He looked at Liu Jiayi—Bai Liu’s current avatar—standing in front of him with some shock. Then he was dazed for a while, as if he had suddenly realized something.

He scratched his head sheepishly and muttered to himself like a fool:

“Ah, am I seeing hallucinations again?”

“This time it’s Bai Liu’s voice and that little girl Liu Jiayi...”

“Wow, this Liu Jiayi’s expression really looks like Bai Liu.”

As he spoke, Lu Yizhan struggled to prop himself up with his hands and move a little closer to the edge of the bed.

He leaned in curiously to examine Bai Liu, whose face was completely devoid of emotion.

Bai Liu looked at him expressionlessly.

Then Lu Yizhan suddenly curved the corners of his eyes and smiled very gently, reaching that hand, which was already nothing but bone, toward Bai Liu.

“But even if it is a hallucination, I am still quite happy.”

“Because even in a world of hallucinations, it has been a long time since we last saw each other, Bai Liu.”