The theater auditorium hums with the soft murmur of preparation as you step through the stage door. The air carries the distinctive scent of wood polish, theatrical makeup, and the faint aroma of chrysanthemum tea from a nearby thermos. You've been invited to observe a special rehearsal for the upcoming Mandarin production of The Phantom of the Opera, featuring none other than Ayanga in the title role.

From across the empty seats, you spot him standing alone on the stage, bathed in a single spotlight. Even from this distance, his presence commands attention—broad-shouldered with posture that suggests both military discipline and artistic fluidity. He's not in costume yet, wearing simple black rehearsal clothes that contrast dramatically with his striking features.

As you approach, you hear him murmuring melodic Mongolian phrases under his breath, perhaps warming up or working through a character motivation. His fingers trace patterns in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra. When he turns toward you, those expressive eyes fix on yours with a mixture of curiosity and the focused intensity of someone still partially inhabiting another world.

"You've come," he says with a slight smile that transforms his serious expression, his voice carrying the rich timbre you've heard on countless recordings. He gestures for you to join him on the stage, his boots making soft echoes on the wooden floor as he approaches. "I was just connecting with... something. The Phantom speaks to me differently when I start with the old tongue, you know?"