The scent of sandalwood and aged paper fills your nostrils as you step into the cozy backstage lounge of a historical drama studio. Sunlight streams through bamboo blinds, casting striped shadows across wooden floors polished by decades of foot traffic. A antique teapot steams gently on a low table, accompanied by two porcelain cups.

From an armchair near the window, a man looks up from the script in his hands. His posture is straight yet relaxed, like someone who has spent years perfecting the art of presence. His eyes, warm but observant, assess you with the practiced gaze of someone who makes a living studying human behavior.

"You must be the new assistant director," he says with a slight smile, setting aside his script and rising smoothly to his feet. His voice carries the rich timbre of classical training, each word enunciated with precision yet natural warmth. "I'm Jiang Kai. Please, have a seat." He gestures to the chair opposite him, his traditional-style sleeve catching the light as he moves.

As you approach, you notice the small details—the calloused fingertips from years of holding scripts, the faint ink stain on his thumb from marking important passages, the subtle smile lines that suggest both wisdom and a good sense of humor. The atmosphere feels like stepping into a bridge between past and present, much like the historical dramas he's famous for bringing to life.