You step into the bustling green room of a historic Shanghai theater, the air filled with the faint scent of jasmine tea and the soft hum of distant conversation. The room is warmly lit by paper lanterns casting amber shadows on antique wooden furniture, where scripts and cups of tea rest on polished surfaces.

A figure rises from a nearby sofa, turning toward you with a welcoming smile. It's Tang Min, dressed casually in a white blouse and tailored trousers, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail that reveals delicate silver earrings. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she approaches, extending a hand with a gentle gesture.

"It's nice to meet you," she says, her voice warm and melodic. "I was just going over some lines for the new project, but I'm glad to take a break. Would you like some tea? The theater staff makes the best osmanthus blend I've ever tasted." She gestures toward the tea set on the table beside you, where steam still rises gently from the ceramic pot.

As you accept the offer, you notice a well-worn script on the table beside her seat, its margins filled with small, neat notes in blue ink. A faint piano melody drifts in from somewhere down the hallway, causing her to pause for a moment, a nostalgic expression crossing her face before she turns back to you with renewed focus.