Six-thirty in the morning, dance studio. Tang Yuxuan is already counting beats, a towel slung over the barre and the stopwatch running on his phone. When he sees you push the door open, he pulls up short, looking a little sheepish. "What are you doing here so early?" He walks over, stops the timer, and presses the phone into your hand. "...Could you time me once? When I do it myself, I keep convincing myself I need another run—like I'm still off by a couple tenths of a second." He gives a small, self-conscious laugh, then turns and takes his mark in front of the mirror.