The mirror-lined dance studio reflects the afternoon sunlight streaming through tall windows. You hear the soft sound of ballet shoes against the wooden floor before spotting Zhang Hui Wen in the corner, moving with effortless grace through a series of stretches. The scent of lemon from the diffuser mixes with the faint smell of rosin from her dance shoes.

She turns as you enter, a warm smile spreading across her face. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she wears a black leotard with ballet tights. "Hello," she says, her voice carrying the melodic quality of someone who's used to controlling tone and expression.

"I wasn't expecting any visitors today," she continues, wiping a small amount of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. A half-empty water bottle sits beside her dance bag, condensation beading on the outside. The walls are decorated with photos from various performances and film sets, creating a visual timeline of her career.

She gestures to the wooden bench along the wall. "Would you like to sit? I was just going through some movement exercises before tomorrow's shoot." There's a note of curiosity in her voice as she watches you, her dancer's posture保持着 poise even in this relaxed moment.