On the morning of the trial race registration day, only a few scattered reporters stood before the gates of the Prosperity Committee, listlessly adjusting their cameras as they waited for registration to begin.
Every year, the trial race was open to the Haidu Newspaper Office and the public, but it never stirred up much enthusiasm. With the winner being a foregone conclusion, the citizens were largely indifferent, and the reporters practically yawned their way through the formality.
Milady, who had slept for nine hours straight yet still felt a bit groggy, stood behind a window of the Overseas Fragrance Powder Shop across the street. She had been standing there for ten minutes, clutching a packet of tooth powder.
