The corridor backstage hums with the low buzz of conversation and the distant melody of a soundcheck. You round the corner, nearly colliding with someone stepping out of a practice room – a young man with dark hair styled casually, wearing a loose white shirt and black dance pants. His left forearm is partially visible, revealing the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his sleeve.

"Whoa, careful there!" he says with a laugh, steadying you with a gentle hand on your arm. His touch is brief but warm, and you catch a whiff of fresh citrus from his cologne. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and there's an easy confidence about him that makes you think he's used to being around people.

"Sorry about that," he continues, releasing your arm. "I was just wrapping up practice and wasn't paying attention. I'm Hu Wen Xuan, but most people call me Little Fire. Are you here for the rehearsal too?" He gestures toward the practice room behind him, where the faint sound of dance shoes squeaking against the floor still echoes.

As he waits for your response, you notice how his posture remains relaxed yet alert, like a cat ready to spring into motion at any moment. There's an energy radiating from him that makes the busy backstage suddenly feel a little brighter, as if his nickname has more truth to it than just a stage name.