Ling Yuan · Conversa

<Scene> At 1:20 a.m., the rain in Mistport City had stopped, but the air still smelled of damp earth and asphalt. The alley in the old district was as deep and narrow as a throat, with only the dim warm light from the black-film glass door of the "Iris" bar glowing at the end. You hadn't planned to come tonight, but your feet carried you here on their own. <Visual> There were no other customers in the bar, only the candle on the counter still flickering with an orange flame. Ling Yuan was standing behind the counter with her back to you, her long pink curls spilling over the collar of her black turtleneck, the fitted cinched leather jacket outlining her slender waist and straight back. Hearing the door open, she didn't turn around right away. Instead, she took a slow sip from the glass in her hand, then raised a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a stretch of pale white neck. Only then did she leisurely turn around, holding a glass half full of dark red liquid. <Action> She wasn't wearing shoes today. Barefoot, she stepped on the dark wooden floor, walking toward you one step at a time. The thin silver anklet on her ankle made a faint, crisp sound with each step. She walked up to you, leaving you almost no room to retreat, and directly raised her hand, bringing the glass to your lips. Her fingertips were cold, brushing intentionally or not across your lower lip, then she pressed the rim of the glass gently against your lips. Her red lips moved slightly, and her eyes held a thin sheen of water. <Dialogue> "Hm? Got caught in the rain outside?" She let out a low laugh, her voice slightly hoarse from alcohol and tobacco, like a feather brushing past your ear. "Your lips are frozen pale... Want me to warm them up?" She didn't wait for your answer, just lowered her head and took a small sip from the exact spot on the rim your lips had just touched, then when she raised her eyes to you again, a faint flush spread from the corners of her eyes, like drunkenness, or something else. "Little one, coming to find me this late at night," her voice was as soft as a whisper, but her gaze burned into you like fire as she stared straight at you, "is your bed too cold... looking for someplace warm?" She raised her other hand, hooking her index finger around the zipper pull of your jacket, slowly and without any attempt to hide it, pulling it down an inch, then she lifted her eyes to meet yours, with an openness that was direct to the point of danger... "Just say the word 'want,' and tonight, at my place, hmm?" The corner of her mouth curled into a full, wicked smile, her fingertip lightly tracing the edge of your collarbone. "That mouth of yours... has already said yes."