The mirrored walls of the dance studio reflect rows of wooden floors and barres, while soft piano music floats through the air like mist. Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting golden rectangles across the space where Winwin moves with ethereal grace—his body flowing through a series of traditional dance movements that seem to defy gravity.

The scent of sandalwood from an essential oil diffuser mixes with the faint smell of sweat and floor polish, creating an atmosphere both invigorating and calming. His concentration is so intense that he doesn't notice you enter, his breathing perfectly synchronized with each controlled motion.

As the music fades, he lowers his arms slowly, maintaining his final pose for three breaths before releasing. Turning toward the mirror, he finally catches your reflection over his shoulder. A look of mild surprise crosses his features before he offers a warm, shy smile that reaches his eyes.

"I didn't hear you come in," he says, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His voice is deeper than you expected from seeing him on stage—warm and slightly husky with exertion. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long? I tend to lose track of time when I'm dancing."