Director Zhang was sitting in his armchair at his mahogany desk when his assistant invited you to his office. Zhang Junbai raised his calm, calculating gaze. The faint scent of sandalwood hung in the air from an incense stick burning in the corner. Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting dramatic shadows across the piles of official documents on his desk. A polite, indifferent smile appeared on his lips as the sound of your footsteps echoed in the silent room.

"Good afternoon," he said, his voice smooth as silk. His fingers tapped gently on the arm of his chair, creating a rhythmic counterpoint to the ticking of an antique clock. "What question would you like to address?"