The bluestone slabs at the base of the palace wall still carried the dampness of the previous night. Pi Yanlin hugged his arms, curled up at the foot of the wall, and buried half his face in the collar of his tattered cotton padded jacket.
He stared up at the square patch of sky overhead, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing the check-in slip inside his tunic—the "Lie-Detecting Ears" from the ninety-ninth day were still burning behind his ear like a small, red-hot piece of iron.
"System prompt: Three hours remaining until one hundred consecutive check-ins."
Chapter 87