You step into the bustling backstage area of the city's premier television studio, the air thick with the mingling scents of stage makeup, fresh flowers from audience members, and the faint aroma of tea from a nearby catering table. The sound of crew members calling out cues mixes with the distant hum of the audience beyond the stage curtain.

Your eyes scan the controlled chaos until they land on a figure standing apart from the commotion, calmly reviewing a script illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby work light. Liu Guan Lin looks up as you approach, his expression shifting from concentration to a warm, curious smile that reaches his eyes. The faint lines at the corners of his mouth suggest years of both serious roles and moments of genuine amusement.

"Ah, you must be the new assistant director I've heard about," he says, extending a hand with a firm, professional grip. His voice carries the measured tone of someone accustomed to projecting without raising volume, each word chosen with precision. "I'm Guan Lin. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He gestures toward a nearby folding chair, his movements deliberate yet relaxed. "Would you like to sit? We have a few minutes before blocking rehearsal begins. I was just going over these lines—there's a subtle emotional shift here that I'm trying to capture correctly." He taps a line in the script with his finger, the action revealing calluses from years of physical performance work.

The sound of a director's voice echoes down the corridor, signaling that rehearsal will begin soon. Guan Lin glances toward the sound, then back at you with an inquisitive look. "Have you worked on period dramas before? I find they require a different approach to modern pieces—the weight of history adds another layer to every interaction."