There was no such thing as a "special day."
For the Earth, every day was merely one three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth of its journey around the sun, time slipping by unnoticed alongside its rotation.
Though its elliptical orbit created slight differences in solar radiation and heat, which particular segment of those three hundred and sixty-five days it was amounted to nothing more than a trivial detail.
Likewise, from an absolutely rational perspective, there was no such thing as a "special day."
No matter how extraordinary the events of a given day were, a broader view would reveal that things of similar significance were happening somewhere else on Earth every day.
Conversely, one could say that every day was special—but every day was also ordinary.
What determined whether a day was special was not how extraordinary the events of that day were, but whether the person experiencing them felt that they were special.
When he woke up that morning and the date on his phone entered his sight, he truly felt that this was a special day unlike any other.
The second Friday of July.
The day the Hong Kong Champion Horse Award results were announced—something he had originally thought had little to do with the overseas contingent.
From early that morning onward, his phone had constantly received congratulatory messages from associates all over the world.
[That horse is obviously going to be Champion Sprinter, right?] [If he gets named Hong Kong Horse of the Year here, we might receive quite a few shuttle-stallion requests from Australia next year.] Messages like those, written in all kinds of languages, had bombarded the notification bar from the moment he unlocked his phone.
Ka Ying Rising had soundly defeated their team's ace in last year's Hong Kong Sprint, then easily won the first two legs of the