Chapter 1409: As Promised, the Swimsuit Photoshoot

Luo Quan's skin has always been very white, looking like pure, flawless snow and ice.

But perhaps she herself doesn't really like this complexion; it's too pallid, appearing somewhat sickly, as if excessive blood loss has caused the color to fade.

She prefers that healthy white, the kind with a hint of red in the whiteness.

Now her wish has finally been fulfilled; the Immaculate Immortal Body has given her body a warm hue once more, her complexion becoming like warm, smooth jade, as if peach blossoms were mixed into the snow.

This healthy pallor is what Luo Quan wanted for her skin.

As for the feel, there's no need to mention it—place a glass bead on her back, a gentle blow sends it sliding all the way down the spine to the tailbone, smoother than Dove chocolate.

"Daughter, now you can eat to your heart's content."

Luo Quan happily picked up Luo Lemon, while she herself first opened her embrace.

Previously, due to the conflict between the Buddhist sect's faith and the Liming Sect's faith, the daughter would feel unwell after eating.

Now that she has become a higher-grade Immaculate Immortal Body, she should no longer experience such situations, right?

Ten minutes later, after Luo Quan finished feeding her daughter dinner, she carefully examined her daughter's body.

After confirming there were no red streaks, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"System, can you calculate what unknown things will affect Lemon Lemon in the future? Speak quickly so I can resolve it all at once."

Luo Quan fastened her buttons, asking the system solemnly.

"There should be none, at least not currently in the system's database."

The system's response relieved Luo Quan considerably.

I hope there's truly no problem here; otherwise, my daughter, just born a few days ago, would keep encountering one trouble after another—her luck would be truly too bad.

At least she still bears the title of Holy Son.

But in the canon, the Holy Son seems to be specifically destined to suffer in this mortal world, needing to bear the sins of humanity and endure much hardship.

Luo Quan doesn't know if her memory is faulty, but if this is truly the case, she will no matter what change her daughter's fate.

Whoever wants to eat this bitterness can eat it; worst case, we just give up the Holy Son title.

If such a "treasonous" idea were known to Pang Benjamin III, he would surely come again to earnestly advise her.

This old pope is fine in every way, except his character is too soft.

He lacks sufficient deterrence over his own subordinates.

Even though he knows exactly what kind of personality this Holy Mother of his is, he still lets those believers disturb him.

If she were pope, her subordinates acting like this would all be sent to the Inquisition for solitary confinement; next time, they'd have to copy the Liming Sect canon ten thousand times, and misspelling a single letter would require starting over.

If they still couldn't be controlled, they'd be nailed directly to the cross, making them taste the path of atonement walked by the first Holy Son—also a kind of pilgrimage, in a way.

With such punishment, Luo Quan doesn't believe anyone would still dare to disrespect her.

Put bluntly, this generation's pope isn't extreme enough; his personality is actually softer than the Holy Mother's.

"Mom, I want to sleep."

After eating and drinking her fill, Luo Lemon let out a sweet milky burp, her whole body relaxed and trembling.

Luo Quan gently touched her daughter's little head, saying softly: "Sleep, daughter; Mom will sing you a lullaby."

"No need for a lullaby; I can fall asleep just like this."

Probably because she finds singing too noisy, Luo Lemon refused the lullaby.

Most people indeed find it hard to sleep when there's sound in their ears; newborn babies might not be affected this way, but Luo Lemon clearly is not among them.

The good news is, Luo Lemon won't cry at night, and her sleep quality is excellent—she falls into deep sleep the moment she closes her eyes, only waking up the next morning.

This is far better than Luo Xi and Arthur; when Luo Quan used to take care of those two, she often had to get up in the middle of the night to change their diapers.

After seeing her daughter asleep, Luo Quan, taking advantage of the early hour, opened her livestream.

Yesterday she suddenly went offline, and until now hasn't sent a single notification; she guesses those fans will again complain about her in the comment section.

But after going live, the danmaku unexpectedly turned harmonious.

"Strange, today no one is complaining?" Luo Quan said, somewhat surprised.

Usually, if there's even a slight tardiness or early departure, the next day these fans would want her to repay double; this time, not a single one spoke harshly—did the sun rise in the west?

"I'll be this traitor, not because I don't want to complain, but because these people have bigger plans!"

"You little brat, leaking the group's intentions early, huh?"

"Anyway, it's all going to be said; early or late doesn't make much difference."

"Let's not say it for now; let Luo Bao figure it out herself."

……………………

The danmaku's words left Luo Quan somewhat bewildered, unclear what they were actually saying.

But since the danmaku mentioned letting her think for herself, it must definitely be something she herself previously said or promised.

Moreover, it made these people so embarrassed to speak up that they needed to do some irrelevant things as a prelude.

So this matter…

Luo Quan suddenly had an answer: "You guys are talking about the swimsuit photoshoot, right?"

The danmaku instantly burst into smiles:

"This wasn't us saying it—it was you who said it yourself."

"Hahaha, I knew Luo Bao wouldn't forget; now it's great, we have swimsuits to look at again."

"As a gentleman, I actually think whether it's a swimsuit or not is utterly irrelevant; mainly, I just like looking at the sea, liking to run along the waves."

"Then this time we won't wear swimsuits—how about a diving suit?"

"That won't do!"

"Hahaha, are you getting angry? Typical case of saying one thing but meaning another."

"Well, I'm not pretending anymore—we just want to see swimsuits!"

………………

The barrage of comments on screen made Luo Quan burst into laughter: "I promised everyone and I won't go back on my word. I said I'd do a photobook shoot, so naturally I'll do it. Before, it was just because I was pregnant with Ningning and it wasn't convenient, so I kept declining."

"It's not some big problem. I've shot one every year before, and this year is naturally no exception."

"But I've been to Hawaii and the South China Sea twice each already. This time I planned to switch to a new location, so I settled on Tokyo — and conveniently go back to see some old friends while I'm at it."

As Luo Quan spoke, she directly searched two Tokyo-related keywords on Bilibili. The first thing that came up was the Tokyo Dome concert from a few days ago that had been quite popular.

It was organized by Yun Jingxiao. By now, he was already Japan's foremost rock superstar, and because of his avant-garde and highly distinctive style, he enjoyed considerable popularity worldwide as well.

Previously, when Bilibili held the New Year's Gala, Yun Jingxiao and his group were able to come largely for Luo Quan's sake.

And once concerts were mentioned, another wave of fans in the barrage had something to say.

They were basically all female fans. Although they also liked watching swimsuit photobooks, they wouldn't be as intense about it as male fans.

Comparatively, they wanted Luo Quan to hold a concert more.

And not just one — in the end, a global tour of ten-odd or twenty shows.

Quite a few fans felt that only this could do justice to Luo Quan's status as a world-class superstar, and when they went out to tear into other fandoms, they'd have more face.

It seemed that in fandom culture, holding a concert was an act that very much reflected a celebrity's popularity and strength.

Concert attendance numbers and revenue would be called "achievements." If every show sold out, that made you an international superstar.

Luo Quan actually didn't quite understand why such a standard existed, as if it had become an unspoken convention.

Shouldn't a celebrity's influence be judged by online reputation and awards won?

Concert data can be faked, but reputation and awards — money can't necessarily buy those.

Just like when Luo Quan first returned to the domestic market after making it abroad, the talk was about a domestic music genius sweeping overseas and triggering countless foreign fans to chase after her.

Using that kind of rhetoric for domestic promotion back then, she was mocked by many, who said she was some unknown wild chicken singer who popped out of nowhere, spent a few days abroad, and became a returnee?

This kind of public opinion persisted until half a year after her return. Even though she produced quite a few excellent works, it still had a huge market.

When did it start to die down?

It was after she swept the Grammys.

Although the Grammys have been getting more and more watered down lately, one must admit it's still the most prestigious award in the pop music world.

And a few years ago, this award was an even bigger gold-lettered signboard. Just winning a fringe award was enough to be trumpeted loudly at home.

And Luo Quan at that time swept the heavyweight awards: Album of the Year, Best Singer, Best Producer, Best Rock, and so on.

From then on, Luo Quan's status in the pop music world began a vertical takeoff.

It was also from after winning the awards that domestic voices questioning her in music basically disappeared.

Because a dozen-plus Grammys laid out there — sufficient confidence meant that even without speaking, she won out over a thousand words.

But this also led to a downside: some of her fans, when facing domestic singers, always had a domineering attitude.

As if: my favorite singer is Luo Quan, her achievements are this amazing, so I can righteously look down on domestic singers, just because they don't have awards or don't have as many overseas fans.

Luo Quan has said this more than once, and reminded fans more than once not to use this attitude to disparage other singers.

But the effect doesn't seem too good. Many fans, especially female fans, particularly like to engage in this kind of tearing others down to prop up their own.

Although both men and women have fandoms, female fans seem to be more enthusiastic about this aspect.

It's just that for guys, the method of comparison is more direct — comparing awards. Female fans, on the other hand, like to compare through concert numbers and endorsement counts.

For instance, some domestic traffic singers — as long as they hold a single concert, fans will hype it up wildly on Weibo. If they land an internationally renowned luxury brand endorsement, they're even more desperate to shout it so the whole net knows.

This sort of thing counts as using the most fandom-typical method to prove that their favorite star is a traffic star.

Previously on Luo Quan's side it was still alright. After emphasizing it a few times on Weibo, the fandom fans restrained themselves quite a bit.

Last year she didn't manage this aspect much, and it seems it directly reignited from dead ashes.

Actually, Luo Quan understands clearly what these so-called fandoms do.

A large portion of them operate under the banner of fandoms to rake in money for those few organizers.

The organizers — that is, the star's big fans — would form groups in the name of helping the star manage fans, then collect various fees for cheering for the star, boosting rankings, boosting achievements.

Or simply stake out the star's schedule, take photos, and sell them to other fans.

These behaviors are actually the true face of fandoms, yet those fans still think doing this expresses their love for their idol. In reality, they've been sold out and still have to help count the money.

Luo Quan knows this clearly, so very early on she canceled the so-called Luo Quan Global Fan Club that was established in her name.

As for concerts and such, that's even more a matter of leaving it to fate.

In her view, a concert is a happy gathering to reunite with fans, not a tool to compare revenue with other stars.

So when she held a concert last year, she had already pressed the ticket prices very low.

For domestic first-tier singers, concert tickets start at four to five hundred at minimum. If they're top-tier, they're basically heading for six to seven hundred.

But Luo Quan's concert tickets were two hundred at the lowest, and only around six hundred at the highest.

For her stature, this kind of pricing is simply low to the point of being charity.

Although in the end tickets would still be scalped for thousands or even tens of thousands, that's all the scalpers' doing.

She's thought of every way to target scalpers, but these people just have supernatural connections — they always get tickets, and always find ways to bypass ticket checks.

Occasionally she'd be strict a few times. Luo Quan would look at those fans who bought high-priced tickets and came from afar, stuck outside the venue, and couldn't bear it, and in the end still let them in.

All one can say is that scalping really can't be eradicated, but Luo Quan has already pressed ticket prices as low as possible, just wanting the majority of fans to have a chance to come see her perform.

Of course, performing is indeed very happy, but the planning beforehand is indeed very exhausting.

Doing two or three a year is fine. If she really had to launch a global tour to show strength, she might as well be killed directly.

So for those female fans in the barrage earnestly urging her to do a global tour, Luo Quan's answer was: "A concert will be held, but a global tour is out of the question.

Everyone knows I'm someone who fears trouble. If concerts didn't need planning and rehearsals, and I could teleport, then I'd definitely tour a bit.

But I can't teleport. Every single concert needs planning, so everyone had better not hold too high expectations.

Of course, I have an idea — use Bilibili's ready-made stage to hold a concert. Then everyone can watch online."

That way fans all over the world can watch, and you can sing for as long as you want; everyone can also chat in the bullet comments, and the audio quality will be better too.

Aside from the atmosphere not being especially lively, I don't think there are any drawbacks.

Of course, this idea is still in the planning stage; whether it can be pulled off remains to be seen.

The matter at hand is naturally the swimsuit photobook that everyone loves to see.

I've been to so many places, yet it seems I haven't really been to a Tokyo beach before, so this time it's set there; as for which specific beach, I won't say in advance, otherwise fans might all gather there and it'd be too awkward.