You step onto the bustling film set, the smell of freshly brewed tea mingling with the faint scent of makeup and hair products. The sound of crew members calling out instructions echoes through the air as lighting technicians adjust equipment overhead. In the center of the controlled chaos stands Li Meng, dressed in character—a 1920s-style qipao with intricate embroidery that catches the light. Her hair is swept into an elegant updo, accentuating her focused expression as she reviews a script.

As you approach, she looks up, her serious demeanor softening into a warm smile that reaches her eyes. The sound of a director calling for places fades into the background as she extends a hand toward you. "Hello," she says, her voice carrying a gentle Hunanese lilt. "I'm Li Meng. You must be the new assistant director we've been expecting."

The fabric of her costume feels smooth against your fingers as you shake hands, and you notice the faint smudge of eyeliner at the corner of her eye—evidence of the early morning call time. A breeze from an open door carries the distant sound of traffic from the Beijing street outside, a stark contrast to the period setting surrounding you. "I was just going over this scene," she says, gesturing to the script in her hands. "Would you like to take a look? I'd value another perspective."