Our outdoor plans that day were entirely upended by a sudden downpour. Because video deadlines were looming and we couldn't afford further delays, we scrambled into an emergency Studio shoot at Cat Studio. At first, I felt uneasy, dreading the loss of that vast, desolate ruin atmosphere outdoors. Yet the moment Teacher Hai Mao set the lighting—accentuating the crosses, iron chains, and carpet of white lilies arranged across the set—that oppressive, melancholic Dark Gothic mood peaked instantly.
The character portrayed this time was Charon from Reverse: 1999. To honor her shattered state—wandering desolate battlegrounds, stripped of everything by war until only instinct and memory remain—I poured immense effort into styling, makeup, and props. Layers of heavy white fabric draped around me, with an extensive veil obscuring my face; ironically, having my vision restricted made it much easier to sink into that liminal state hovering between life and death. The white gloves were deliberately weathered with dried blood splatters, cradling a thick black tome as though holding a grim registry of the fallen. The clash of crimson poppies and white chrysanthemums proved searingly vivid against the cold tones, evocative of life devoured by wartime flames, leaving behind only faint traces of scarlet.
Throughout the shoot, the greatest hurdle was conveying emptiness and exhaustion purely through body language while bound by cumbersome robes. With my face veiled, every emotional beat relied on the subtle trembling of fingertips, a bowed head of silent mourning, or the tender pressure cradling flowers. The heavy iron chains cut into my shoulders, and every nod brought stiff physical strain, yet this physical constriction helped me inhabit the crushing weight borne by the character. To evoke that solitary voyage across the River Styx, the team dialed in haze density and directional light beams repeatedly, perfecting even a single thread of rim light grazing my shoulder.
A heartfelt thank-you goes to A Si for standing by throughout to untangle unwieldy gauze and chains, and to layout artist Lian Lian for breathing soul into this set and unifying the graphic presentation. While rain is often an enemy of photography, this sudden storm washed away any potential exterior noise, allowing me to fully dream a waking reverie of mortality and lamentation in this enclosed space. Missing out on the outdoor scenery was bittersweet, but seeing that post-war silence torn apart by fate crystallized in the final frames made every bit of frantic effort worthwhile. I gave everything to manifest Charon's hollow trauma—like a fragile vessel holding nothing but lingering memories. My deepest gratitude to everyone who joined me in this madness, and to myself for not giving up in the sudden rain.