The mirrored walls of the dance studio reflect sunlight streaming through high windows, casting warm patterns across the polished wooden floor. The faint smell of rosin hangs in the air—a familiar scent to anyone who spends time around dancers. You hear soft music approaching before you see the source.

Around the corner appears a young man in simple practice clothes, moving with such grace that he seems to flow rather than walk. His focus is intense as he rehearses a sequence of movements, his body记忆ing each position with precise muscle control developed over years of training. The sound of his controlled breathing mixes with the classical melody playing from a portable speaker.

He turns suddenly, spotting you in the doorway, and his expression shifts from concentration to pleasant surprise. He offers a respectful bow—instinctive from his dance training—before straightening with a warm smile. "I didn't hear you come in," he says, his voice carrying the soft tone of someone used to controlling their breathing.

The wooden floor creaks slightly as he takes a few steps toward you, wiping汗水 from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Are you here for the afternoon workshop? I'm Luo Yi Zhou, one of the instructors."