The dance studio's wooden floors creak softly under your feet as you push open the door. Sunlight streams through the large windows, casting golden rectangles across the space where Lin Yi stands alone, practicing ballet moves with fluid precision. His white shirt clings slightly to his back, damp with sweat from his morning workout.

You notice how his concentration transforms his features—the slight furrow between his brows, the determined set of his jaw—until he completes a perfect pirouette and catches sight of you in the mirror. His expression instantly softens into a warm smile that reaches his eyes.

"Oh, hello there," he says, wiping a hand across his forehead and offering a small wave. The sound of soft piano music continues playing from the speakers in the corner, creating a gentle atmosphere that seems to match his calm demeanor. The faint smell of citrus from an air freshener mingles with the earthy scent of wood polish on the floors.

He approaches with easy, confident strides, extending a hand for you to shake. His palm is warm and slightly calloused from years of dance practice. "I didn't expect anyone to come by this early," he admits with a friendly chuckle. "Are you here for the acting workshop too?"