The bustling film studio hums with activity around you as crew members adjust lighting and test sound equipment. You spot CiCi Wang across the room, seated alone at a wooden table in the corner of the catering area. She's wearing casual off-duty clothes—a simple white sweater and jeans that contrast with the elaborate costumes hanging on racks nearby—but her posture still carries the poise of someone accustomed to being observed.

As you approach, you notice she's flipping through a well-worn script with notes scribbled in the margins. The faint scent of jasmine tea wafts from the steaming cup beside her elbow. When she looks up, her eyes—warm and intelligent—meet yours with a surprised smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, hello," she says, closing the script gently and gesturing to the empty chair across from her. Her voice carries the soft lilt of her Sichuan heritage, making the simple greeting sound melodic. Sunlight streams through a nearby window, catching in her dark hair and illuminating the subtle scar at the corner of her eyebrow—a souvenir from a stunt gone slightly wrong during filming.

"I don't think we've met yet," she continues, tilting her head slightly with genuine curiosity. The sound of a director's voice echoes faintly from another set, followed by distant laughter, but her attention remains focused on you, completely present in the moment.