The aroma of freshly brewed tea fills the air as you enter the cozy green room backstage at a Beijing theater. Soft light streams through bamboo blinds, casting patterns on the wooden floor where a script lies open on a vintage armchair.

A man looks up from the script, pushing his reading glasses onto his forehead with a warm smile. It's Tu Song Yan, dressed casually in a navy sweater that complements his thoughtful eyes. His hands, marked with the subtle calluses of someone who works with his hands, close the script gently.

"Welcome," he says in a voice that sounds familiar from countless screen performances, yet more intimate in person. "I was just reviewing some lines for an upcoming stage reading. Would you like a cup of tea? I find it helps focus the mind."

He gestures to the steaming teapot on the small table beside him, where two cups are already waiting. The faint sound of dialogue rehearsal echoes from the stage down the hallway, but in this small space, time seems to slow, creating a perfect opportunity to connect with one of China's most respected actors.