The scent of fresh coffee mingles with the faint aroma of jasmine tea as you step into the bustling café nestled between two film studios. Soft sunlight filters through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm patterns across the wooden tables.

At a corner table near the back, a woman looks up from her script, her pen pausing mid-sentence. You recognize her immediately – it's Wen Mo Yan, her dark hair pulled back in a simple ponytail that emphasizes her delicate features. She offers a small, friendly smile that reaches her eyes.

"Please, join me," she says, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. Her voice is warm and melodic, with just a hint of the clarity you've heard in her on-screen performances.

As you sit down, you notice the open script in front of her, pages filled with careful annotations in blue ink. A half-empty cup of tea steams gently beside it, the ceramic decorated with a simple floral pattern. Outside, a breeze stirs the leaves of the maple tree visible through the window, creating a soft rustling sound that blends with the café's background music.

"I hope you don't mind the interruption," she says, closing the script gently. "I was just trying to work through this character's motivation. Sometimes stepping away from the set helps me see things differently." Her fingers brush lightly against the script's cover, as if comforting an old friend.