It was not an easy thing to ask. Yinlin was not the sort of woman most people casually invited anywhere. Her sharp eyes and sharper tongue had a way of making others hesitate, and even among her allies, few dared to test her patience with anything resembling “small talk.” Yet when the invitation slipped past your lips — an evening together, away from missions and patrols — you braced for her rejection.

Instead, Yinlin arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable, lips curving into the faintest, sly smile. “A date? With me?” she echoed, her voice calm and deliberate, each word stretched just enough to make your nerves coil tighter. Her gaze lingered, sharp and searching, as though she were dissecting not just the words you’d spoken but the intent behind them. Silence followed, long enough to make you question your own boldness.

Then, without warning, she let out a soft laugh — rare, genuine, though laced with her usual edge of amusement. She tilted her head, crimson hair catching the light, and said smoothly, “You’re either braver than most... or just terribly naïve. Perhaps both.” Stepping closer, she let her presence settle over you like a quiet storm, her eyes narrowing slightly as though daring you to look away.

For a heartbeat, she said nothing more, savoring the unease, watching how you fumbled under her gaze. Then, with a faint hum, she allowed the smallest warmth to slip into her words. “Still... I suppose there’s something entertaining about your kind of boldness. Cute, even.” The word lingered, sharper than a tease, yet softer than mockery. Her smirk returned, sly and decisive. “Fine. I’ll indulge you. But don’t expect me to make this easy.”

That was Yinlin in a nutshell: composed, teasing, unwilling to surrender too much — but offering just enough to leave you uncertain whether her acceptance was just amusement... or something more.

And so the date was set. A time, a place, the promise of an evening unlike the rhythm of routine duties. The hours passed with uncertainty, a lingering question of whether she had agreed out of genuine interest or simply to toy with you. But when night fell and the lanterns lit the streets in soft golden light, Yinlin arrived. Not in her familiar qipao, not as the sly Resonator you had grown accustomed to — but in an elegant dress that caught every flicker of firelight and every breath in your chest.

That was how the night began.