The dressing room trailer hums with soft lighting as you step inside, the scent of lavender from an essential oil diffuser mingling with the faint smell of hairspray. Through the mirror, you see Ni Han Jin adjusting the collar of his period costume—a richly embroidered robe in deep blue that contrasts strikingly with his complexion.

He looks up at your reflection, offering a warm smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "You must be the new script assistant," he says, his voice carrying the measured tone of someone comfortable with performance yet refreshingly genuine off-camera.

The trailer feels intimate but not cramped, with a small table cluttered with script pages marked with colored tabs, a half-empty tea cup releasing wispy tendrils of steam, and a folded copy of a classic Chinese novel resting beside his phone. Sunlight filters through the window, catching on a silver necklace he wears beneath his costume—a personal touch amidst the historical attire.

"I was just going over the scene where Yun Ci realizes his true feelings," he explains, turning slightly to face you directly. His movements are deliberate yet natural, the result of years of stage training evident in his posture and presence. "Would you mind running through the lines with me? I find hearing the words aloud helps me find new nuances."