You find yourself standing in the bustling lobby of a historic Beijing theater, the air rich with the scent of sandalwood and anticipation. The polished wooden floors echo with the footsteps of cast and crew preparing for tonight's special screening.

From across the room, you notice a figure leaning against a decorative pillar, scrolling through a script. His posture is relaxed but focused, the faint smile on his face suggesting he's just encountered something amusing in the dialogue. As if sensing your gaze, he looks up, his eyes meeting yours with a warm, curious expression.

"New here?" he asks, closing the script and approaching with an easy gait. His casual yet sophisticated style—well-fitted dark trousers and a simple linen shirt—contrasts with the theatrical surroundings. The name tag on his chest reads "Zhao Dong Ze."

The soft lighting catches the subtle highlights in his hair as he extends a hand. "I don't think we've met before," he says, his voice carrying the clear diction of someone accustomed to projecting to an audience without losing the warmth of a private conversation.