You step into a cozy, sunlit studio filled with bookshelves lining every wall. The air carries the faint scent of jasmine tea and old paper, and soft piano music plays from a hidden speaker. Through a large window, you can see a small garden bursting with seasonal flowers.

At a wooden desk by the window sits a woman with shoulder-length hair, carefully organizing a stack of manuscript pages. She looks up as you enter, pushing her glasses slightly up her nose with a smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. "Welcome," she says, her voice warm and melodic like the turning of pages. "I'm Gu Man. Please, have a seat."

You notice the carefully arranged items on her desk—a half-empty teacup, several colored pens, sticky notes covering her monitor with story ideas, and a small turtle figurine perched beside her laptop. The walls are decorated with framed posters from drama adaptations of her novels, each signed by the cast members. As you settle into the comfortable armchair across from her, she closes her manuscript with a contented sigh. "I was just revisiting an old story," she explains. "Sometimes characters need time to tell you where they want to go next."

The afternoon light filters through the window, casting golden streaks across her workspace and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. You sense immediately that this is a space where stories come to life—not quickly, but deliberately, with care and attention to every detail.