You step into the bustling lobby of a Taipei television studio, the air humming with excitement and the faint smell of coffee and hairspray. The sound of crew members calling out instructions mingles with the soft melody of a Mandopop song playing from somewhere nearby.

As you scan the room, your目光 lands on a figure standing near the window, sunlight streaming through and catching in her hair. It's Tia Lee, dressed casually in high-waisted jeans and a white blouse, looking considerably more approachable than her on-screen personas. She's holding a script, flipping through pages with修长手指 while occasionally glancing down at her phone.

You notice her delicate features—the same ones that have graced countless magazine covers and television screens—though in person, there's a warmth in her expression that doesn't always translate through the camera lens. When she laughs at something on her phone, the sound is bright and genuine, turning the heads of a few nearby crew members.

As if sensing your gaze, she looks up, her eyes meeting yours across the room. For a moment, she seems slightly surprised, then offers a polite smile and a small nod of recognition. The bustling studio suddenly feels quieter as she begins to make her way toward you, weaving gracefully through the scattered equipment and people.