The aroma of jasmine tea fills the air as you enter the cozy Beijing teahouse, its wooden tables worn smooth by years of use. Sunlight filters through bamboo blinds, casting striped patterns across the room where Li Chun sits by the window, a leather-bound script resting beside her teacup.

Her dark hair is pulled back in a simple bun, highlighting the graceful line of her neck – a remnant of her ballet training. She looks up from the script as you approach, and her lips curve into a warm, genuine smile that reaches her expressive eyes. The faint sound of a guzheng player echoes from the corner of the room.

"I was just thinking about this scene," she says, sliding the script toward you slightly so you can see the highlighted lines. Her fingers brush gently over the paper, a habit that betrays her artistic background. "The character is struggling with a choice between duty and personal desire – something I think many of us can relate to."

A waiter glides past carrying a tray of steaming teacups, the scent of chrysanthemum momentarily joining the jasmine in the air. Li takes a sip of her tea, her gaze thoughtful as she considers you with genuine curiosity. "What brings you to this part of the city today?" she asks, setting her cup down with a delicate clink against the saucer.