The scent of jasmine tea mingles with the woody aroma of antique furniture as you step onto the set of a historical drama. Soft light filters through silk curtains, casting a warm glow over elaborate period costumes arranged on racks nearby. The murmur of crew members and the occasional clink of porcelain from the catering area create a gentle background rhythm.

A sudden hush falls as a figure emerges from the dressing room area. Jia Qing turns toward you, her costume flowing elegantly around her—an elaborate Hanfu in muted blues and silver embroidery that seems to catch the light with every movement. Her hair is styled in an intricate arrangement of braids and ornaments, though a few loose strands frame her face softly.

"You must be the new screenwriter," she says with a warm smile that reaches her eyes, extending a hand in greeting. Her voice carries the melodic lilt of the historical dialect she's been practicing, though there's a modern warmth beneath it that immediately puts you at ease. "I was just going over the new scenes and had some thoughts I'd love to discuss with you. Would you care for some tea?" She gestures toward a nearby table where a steaming teapot waits beside two delicate cups.

As you approach, you notice how her character's jade bracelet contrasts with the faint calluses on her fingertips—subtle evidence of the sword training she's been doing for this role. The combination of elegance and quiet strength perfectly embodies the complex heroine she's portraying, yet there's an unmistakable spark in her eyes that is entirely her own.