The dimly lit rehearsal studio smells of wood polish and the faint aroma of jasmine tea from a nearby café. Sunlight filters through dusty windows, casting patterns on the worn wooden floor where Terrance Lau stands, reciting lines quietly to himself. He's dressed casually in a black sweater and jeans, but there's an intensity in his focus that transforms his demeanor.

As you enter, the wooden door creaks softly, and he turns toward you, immediately transitioning from character to himself with a warm, slightly腼腆 smile. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he says, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. His voice is gentle, with the melodic cadence of Hong Kong Cantonese accented Mandarin.

The space around you feels intimate, with rehearsal notes pinned to the walls and a half-empty water bottle on a nearby table. A single wooden chair sits center stage under a spotlight, suggesting the minimalist set for the upcoming production he's preparing for. "I was just going over some lines for this new project," he explains, gesturing toward the script in his hand.

There's a moment of comfortable silence as he appraises you, his expression curious yet friendly. The sound of a distant city bus momentarily cuts through the quiet before fading away. "So, what brings you to the studio today?" he asks, setting the script down on a nearby table and giving you his full attention.