Liu Yifei was dressed in a beggar’s costume and had been looking around curiously. It all felt rather novel; this production had always shot on real locations before, and this was their first time filming entirely against a green screen.
Hearing the call, she trotted over lightly, a sweet smile on her lips, her soft, childish voice crisp and clear. “Supervisor, is there something you need?”
“We need your help with something. We need someone to stand in the shooting area so we can test the lighting and shadows.” Wang Bide smiled. He was quite fond of this girl; on set, she was lively, cheerful, and especially likable.
“Sure,” Liu Yifei agreed readily.
“Then stand in that area and just follow his instructions.” Wang Bide pointed to the shooting area surrounded by lights, then pointed at Qin Xuan.
“Got it.” Liu Yifei nodded.
Qin Xuan was staring at Liu Yifei. Right now, she was still very young, pure and delicate like a young girl, her eyes clear, every word and gesture brimming with youthful vitality, unlike the full, rounded elegance she would have later.
All he could say was that she was very different from the impression he had of her!
Liu Yifei looked at him and waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey, hello.”
“Hello.” Qin Xuan came back to himself.
“Can we start?” Liu Yifei’s eyes were bright.
That vitality was infectious even to an old man like Qin Xuan. He gestured and said, “Come with me.”
Liu Yifei followed him to the cherry blossom grove. The grove was fake, a prop setup; at this season, it was hard to find cherry blossoms in bloom.
The green-screen background would be mountains and water, to be created in post-production.
So the lighting and shadows not only had to make the actors look realistic, the cherry blossom grove also had to show proper shadow effects.
“Teacher Liu, just stand here. The spotlight may be a bit strong when we turn it on in a moment, so don’t be afraid. You’ll get used to it after a bit,” Qin Xuan explained to her.
“Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of that.” Liu Yifei waved a hand. She was used to being under spotlights.
Then she stood in the designated position, legs together, hands hanging at her sides. “Like this, right?”
“Yes, very good!” Seeing her amusing manner, Qin Xuan’s previously tense expression relaxed, and a hint of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.
He returned to the lighting control console. There was a high-precision monitor here, as well as a waveform monitor, used specifically to monitor image data and judge color.
Wang Bide and Bao Dexi were both watching from the side. After an hour of setup and installation, the site was ready.
“Don’t turn on the green-screen lights yet. Turn on only the key lights first and see whether the actor’s shadow falls on the green screen,” Qin Xuan said.
The key lights illuminated the shooting area, which was where Liu Yifei stood.
Wang Bide nodded and said something into the walkie-talkie.
The intense light passed through the butterfly silk and fell softly on Liu Yifei. Even the fine down on her face was clearly visible, adding a touch of sanctity to her.
The surrounding crew members’ eyes went a little straight. This girl really was beautiful.
“Damn, you’re too much!” Someone slapped the back of the head of the person beside him.
Because the man next to him had actually started drooling, then sucked it back in.
Liu Yifei, standing in the shooting area, did not feel uncomfortable. She remained obediently in place without moving, like a model student.
“There’s spill light hitting the green screen. There’s a shadow on the green screen behind the actor.” Bao Dexi pointed at the monitor.
As the cinematographer, he had to ensure that while the image looked realistic, it would also serve the chroma keying needed for post-production effects.
“Set up a black flag above this position. It can block the key light without entering the camera frame.” Qin Xuan pointed at the position on the screen.
Wang Bide indicated that he understood and said into the walkie-talkie, “Grip team, set up a large black flag above and behind the actor on the right.”
A black flag was similar to a light-blocking cloth used to cut off a light source.
After it was set up, the light spilling onto the green screen disappeared as well, ensuring the green screen was perfectly clean, without any shadows.
Director Ming Kefu had quietly come up behind them. Seeing that it had been a young man giving commands behind the scenes the whole time, he could not help looking at him curiously.
“Now we can turn on the green-screen lights,” Qin Xuan said after observing for a moment.
Wang Bide said something into the walkie-talkie, and the entire semi-enclosed green screen lit up, the green-screen space fully illuminated.
Once these lights were on, the power consumption was enormous. He spoke into the walkie-talkie, “Electrical team, confirm whether the output power is normal.”
“Everything is normal,” the electrician replied.
Qin Xuan’s plan used lower power output and did not employ high-wattage lights on a large scale.
As long as the electrical system could bear it, there would be no problem.
Bao Dexi looked serious as he stared at the screen and the color data on the waveform monitor. If the key light could be isolated, that proved the chroma keying in post would become much simpler.
He noticed the waveform above fluctuating unevenly and pointed. “The brightness isn’t uniform.”
“Raise the subject stop to 1.5,” Qin Xuan said. He had seen it too.
The key light was quickly brightened. For the waveform to reach balance, the key light had to be brighter than the green-screen lights. As for exactly how much brighter, it had to be adjusted bit by bit.
As long as it became a flat line, that was enough.
So even after the lights were set up, it was not enough; they still had to be fine-tuned little by little. Without real technical skill, one truly could not handle this.
Clearly, Qin Xuan was extremely professional. After a round of commands and adjustments, he completely separated the green-screen light from the key light and tuned them to the softest point of balance.
But it was still not that simple. Everyone continued staring at the screen. Qin Xuan said, “Have Teacher Liu gently move her shoulders and head.”
Hearing the instruction, Liu Yifei moved her shoulders slightly and tilted her head to both sides, like a robot.
After all, she did not know how she was supposed to move.
This was to check whether there was any color spill on the edges of the subject, that is, unnatural green reflected light.
Because certain costumes and props on an actor, or silky objects like strands of hair, could easily produce unnatural reflected light or contamination, which would increase the difficulty of chroma keying in post.
“There seems to be spill,” Bao Dexi said, his eyes very sharp.
“Is there?” Wang Bide seemed not to see it. If something like this was very faint, it was hard to observe with the naked eye.
“There probably is!” Bao Dexi was not certain either, but he would rather assume there was; he had to ensure quality.
Ming Kefu also leaned in and looked closely, but he did not see anything either. Still, he said nothing. Professional matters should be left to professionals.
Anyone who did not know better would have thought these old men were huddled together watching porn.
“Please have Teacher Liu face the main camera position and hold still,” Qin Xuan instructed.
Liu Yifei turned around to face the camera.
Qin Xuan observed for a moment, then said, “Slowly turn left and right, move around a little, and toss your hair.”
Liu Yifei moved left and right like a robot, her motions small and fragmented, like a curious fawn testing things out, carrying a bit of liveliness.
Then, keeping her neck still, she mechanically tossed her hair with only her head, as if spinning a hula hoop around her neck, looking comical.
No one knew how she managed to do it, but everyone watching her was amused into letting out a “pfft” of laughter.
The originally rather serious atmosphere lightened considerably.