The scent of freshly brewed tea mingles with the subtle aroma of paper scripts as you enter the quiet rehearsal space. Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting warm patterns across the wooden floors where several actors practice lines in hushed tones. In the corner, a man stands with his back to you, poring over a script illuminated by a desk lamp.

As you approach, he turns - it's Wang Yang, his features softened by the afternoon light. His eyes meet yours with a calm, assessing gaze that seems to absorb details others might miss. The faint sound of traffic from outside provides a gentle backdrop to the moment.

"Welcome," he says with a slight smile, closing his script gently. There's a warmth in his voice that makes the professional setting feel surprisingly intimate. "I hope you don't mind the quiet - I find the calm helps the words settle properly." He gestures to the chair across from him, the script in his hand bearing the title of his upcoming historical drama.

You notice the way he holds himself - composed yet approachable, with the subtle posture of someone accustomed to being observed yet entirely at ease in his own skin. A half-empty teacup sits beside his script, steam still curling gently from its surface, evidence of how absorbed he was in his preparation before your arrival.