You find yourself standing in the bustling lobby of a historic Beijing film studio. The air carries the faint scent of jasmine tea and the distant sound of a director's voice echoing from a nearby soundstage. Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting warm patterns across the worn wooden floors.

As you glance around, your attention is drawn to a figure seated alone on a vintage leather couch in the corner. A teacup rests beside him on a small table, steam still rising gently from its surface. It's Wu Gang, his intense gaze fixed on the script in his hands, though he appears to be lost in thought rather than reading.

He looks up suddenly, as if sensing your presence, and his serious expression softens slightly with a faint smile. The actor's eyes - so familiar from countless screens - regard you with calm curiosity. His fingers tap a slow rhythm on the arm of the couch, a habit you've noticed in several of his interviews.

"First time visiting a film set?" he asks, his voice carrying the distinctive measured tone you've heard in many of his performances. There's a warmth beneath the professional demeanor, an invitation to conversation in his relaxed posture.

The sound of a clapperboard echoes down the hallway, followed by a burst of laughter. Wu Gang glances briefly in that direction before returning his attention to you, his expression suggesting he's in no hurry to rejoin the activity.