Chapter 969: Self-Portrait

A beautiful person looks good no matter what they do.

Even just sitting quietly painting, the live chat is flooded with people praising how gorgeous she is.

“Gorgeous? Gorgeous what? I’ve barely even started sketching.” Luo Quan glanced at the chat and thought: today’s fans are so over-the-top—they’re already raving after I’ve drawn barely a few lines.

But after carefully reading the chat, she realized the fans were actually praising her own brushstrokes.

“Luo Bao, what are you talking about? We’re praising how beautiful you are.”

“Looks like you’re really annoyed by our compliments—have you heard them too many times already?”

“Luo Bao, you’re getting way too full of yourself.”

“By the way, Luo Bao, you do oil paintings—can you draw regular comics? Like, those… adult manga?”

“Adult manga = regular comics? What kind of brain is that?!”

“I’ve actually seen a manga with Luo Bao as the main character.”

“Tell us the title!”

“Marking this.”

“It’s called ‘The Most Beautiful Humiliation in the World.’”

“Damn, that title sounds insanely hot.”

………………

Before the discussion could go on much longer, Luo Quan immediately issued a thirty-day ban and warned: “This is a green, healthy livestream. Discussing this will get you a one-month mute—no exceptions. Any objections?”

This stance won unanimous approval from netizens:

“Good! People like this should be erased from the earth—they only corrupt the innocent! Banning them isn’t enough!”

“Exactly! I support this decision with both legs!”

“You guys switch sides faster than flipping a page—use them and then throw them away?”

“Luo Bao is still decisive on this—internet isn’t a lawless zone. I advise everyone to watch their words.”

………………

Even in jokes or for entertainment, boundaries must be respected.

Manga featuring female leads like this have always objectively existed, and she herself has seen plenty.

Some are well-drawn, others crudely made—but whenever she saw them, she felt something strange, and her inner turmoil was less than what she felt reading the comments.

It’s not just manga—there are also face-swap videos. These are common for popular female stars in China.

But due to the environment, these videos almost never appear in the stars’ own view, and hardly anyone dares spread them widely.

Because distributing prohibited content or violating portrait rights and reputation rights leads to lawsuits, such things are usually kept private—few dare share them.

Gray-area content should remain hidden, not displayed openly.

That one fan’s casual mention unknowingly opened a new world for countless others.

To prevent more innocent viewers in the livestream from being harmed, Luo Quan swiftly banned that person.

She didn’t do it for herself—she did it purely for positive energy.

Once the hero appeared, the chat instantly went silent, becoming cautious and avoiding any related topics.

Even the chat density thinned out—no one knew if they’d just switched to UC Browser.

She couldn’t control such things, just as she couldn’t control artists drawing manga of her.

All she could do was stop overthinking and focus on her own work.

Hyper-realistic paintings generally require a great deal of time, and not only are they time-consuming, they also drain mental energy.

In other painting styles, when inspiration strikes, you can just sketch a few shapes or lines on canvas and produce an abstract piece you’re satisfied with.

Less content doesn’t matter—as long as it conveys the artist’s emotion and artistic language, it’s a masterpiece.

But hyper-realism is different: if your work doesn’t look like a photograph, it doesn’t qualify as hyper-realistic.

To achieve this, you must observe with extreme precision, memorizing how light falls from every angle.

Only then can you use masterful technique to transfer every observation onto the canvas.

Many say that since high-definition cameras were invented, hyper-realistic art has lost its meaning.

This view is somewhat biased—anyone who’s studied it even a little knows that the human eye sees more than most ultra-high-definition cameras.

Oil paintings and photographs are absolutely two entirely different things.

Even hyper-realistic paintings possess a texture no photograph can match.

So hyper-realistic art hasn’t lost its meaning—it’s the ultimate expression of an artist’s technical mastery.

Of course, technique and art cannot be conflated: reaching the peak of technique can be called art, but poor technique doesn’t automatically disqualify something as art—the final result matters most.

What Luo Quan wanted to present to everyone was a hyper-realistic self-portrait with the texture of an oil painting.

To that end, she even exchanged for the Cold Jun character-binding card.

As China’s leading figure in hyper-realism, his technique is unquestionably among the world’s finest; many of his works have sold for over ten million.

Interestingly, Cold Jun doesn’t consider himself a hyper-realistic painter—he says he’s just obsessive about details, which is why his work looks so lifelike.

But regardless of what he says, his work is definitively classified as hyper-realism.

Now, Luo Quan possessed Cold Jun’s technique, combined with AI painting speed.

The image she wanted to paint had already formed in her mind; by constantly correcting it with a mirror, she could rapidly sketch everything onto the canvas.

So fans watched as Luo Quan moved her brush at a speed unimaginable to ordinary people.

The image on the canvas gradually shifted from abstract to concrete.

Luo Quan had said she’d paint a realistic piece, so when the abstract sketch first appeared, fans debated: “Why did Luo Bao suddenly change her style?”

Now they realized she’d only laid down the basic structure.

Once the details were filled in, a Luo Quan gazing upward at a forty-five-degree angle, smiling gently, appeared on the canvas.

Even though the painting wasn’t finished—even though only her head was drawn, and her hair wasn’t complete—

The photorealistic effect, as if the image had been glued onto the canvas, stunned every viewer.

“Holy shit, this is something else.”

“It looks so real—I can even see the fine hairs on her cheeks.”

“The way the curled ends of her eyelashes intersect with the eyeshadow—this level of detail is insane!”

“This technique is just ridiculous!”

………………

Fans’ praise came as expected, and Luo Quan smiled the same gentle smile as the one in her painting: “Don’t rush—the real masterpiece is still coming. This version is less than half as impressive as the final one.”

This is what’s called showing off.

And even though everyone knew she was showing off, they could only say: “Damn, impressive.”

It’s already this hyper-realistic—and she’s still calling it a half-finished piece? There’s still room to improve?

How high is Luo Quan’s technical level? Fans couldn’t even judge anymore—they felt she could now teach at an art academy.

No wonder she’s a once-in-a-century genius—even in oil painting, a field she’d never touched before, her skill was shockingly extraordinary.

After today, another thing people thought Luo Quan couldn’t do would be erased from their minds.

Amidst fans’ endless praise, Luo Quan sat on her stool for five full hours—from ten in the morning until three in the afternoon.

She didn’t eat a proper meal, just chewed two Snickers bars, drank one bottle of Nutri-Quick, and went to the bathroom once.

To be honest, she hadn’t sat this long in a very long time.

Even during the busiest days of editing films, she never sat longer than two hours.

Before, she feared getting hemorrhoids from sitting too long; now, she wanted a more scientific work method to balance leisure and efficiency.

But today was an exception—this was her first oil painting, and she wanted to complete it in one go, so she barely took any breaks.

Of course, with her current physical condition, painting for five hours—or even fifty—wouldn’t be a problem.

But the long hours of painting left her livestream viewers exhausted.

It’s funny: Luo Quan, who was painting nonstop, didn’t complain of fatigue—but the fans lying in bed scrolling on their phones were the ones groaning: “Finally done! I’m so tired!”

“Now, it’s time to witness a miracle.”

Luo Quan slowly turned the canvas toward the audience.

When the painting was halfway done, she had already rotated the canvas, saving the reveal for the end.

So fans had seen nothing but her serious, beautiful face—no actual artwork.

Though Luo Bao’s face was endlessly captivating, they still wanted to see the painting more.

Their anticipation differed, but Luo Quan knew exactly how to build suspense.

No matter what the fans said, the canvas remained angled away from the camera, revealing only faint colors.

Only now did everyone finally see the finished piece.

Then, the fans understood what Luo Quan had done in the second half.

She added scientifically accurate lighting effects to the nearly lifelike self-portrait, making the whole image even more realistic.

An ultra-high-definition camera alone couldn’t describe it—this painting of Luo Quan looked alive, like a twin sister standing beside the real Luo Quan; without close inspection, you couldn’t tell them apart!

“This looks too real—it’s truly divine technique!”

"Luo Bao, your oil painting skill isn't just 'a little knowledgeable'—you're a master!"

“Everyone’s talking about technique—but all I care about is how beautiful the Luo Bao in the painting is.”

“She really is beautiful—that smile seems to still time, to soften the years.”

“This is Luo Quan’s self-portrait—how could it not be stunning?”

“Haha, you’re right—it’s already incredible if it captures even half her essence, let alone nearly one hundred percent.”

I can only say that Luo Quan’s hyper-realistic painting skills are unmatched among her peers, but I wonder how she does with abstract art.

………………

Abstract and realistic styles are two entirely different concepts.

The former seeks emotion and atmosphere, carrying a certain barrier to appreciation, unlike realism, where quality is immediately apparent.

Luo Quan herself actually doesn’t like abstract art, because it’s not an art form the general public can understand; appreciating its beauty requires slightly more effort.

Compared to it, she prefers impressionism.

In her view, impressionism absorbed much of the essence of Japanese ukiyo-e, excelling in depicting scenery, and isn’t difficult to appreciate.

The difference between it and abstract art is that even ordinary people can feel its charm when viewing an impressionist painting from a distance.

But with abstract art, no matter how far or close, left or right you look, ordinary people simply don’t get it.

As for Van Gogh’s post-impressionism, that’s another story entirely.

Right now, she doesn’t need to show her fans so much—just this hyper-realistic self-portrait alone is enough to cause a sensation in the art world.

As before, after completing her work, she must leave her mark.

Xiao Yu strolled lazily up to Luo Quan, chin raised as if to say, this stamp must be pressed by me.

As its old trade, no one understands stamping better than it.

Luo Quan chuckled and handed over the red ink pad; Xiao Yu dipped its paw in, then pressed it onto the name “Luo Quan” in the lower right corner of the painting.

If this were ancient times, it would be equivalent to an imperial decree.

“Give it a name.”

“What should we call it?”

“How about ‘The Most Beautiful Woman in the World’?”

“Too clichéd.”

“Yeah, isn’t there something more elegant?”

………………

Fans began debating the painting’s title in a flurry of suggestions.

Luo Quan hadn’t thought deeply about any elegant or evocative names beforehand, so she chose the simplest solution: “Let’s just call it ‘Luo Quan’—since it’s me, I’ll name it after myself.”

………

“Haha, isn’t that a bit too hasty?”

“Calling it ‘Luo Quan’ is just lazy—better than my ‘The Most Beautiful Woman in the World’?”

“I still think ‘Luo Quan’ is better. ‘The Most Beautiful Woman in the World’ might be true, but it sounds so awkward.”

“Oil painting titles don’t need to be flashy. Call it what it is. Is ‘Mona Lisa’s Smile’ a particularly special name? Yet it became a world-famous painting.”

“True. A painting’s value comes from its content, not its title.”

“By the way, how much do you think this painting could sell for? Any experts want to estimate?”

“I feel Luo Bao’s painting could sell for at least ten million U.S. dollars.”

“Ten million? You’re underestimating Luo Quan—I think it’s at least fifty million! Clap if you agree.”

………………

Luo Quan didn’t know if there were any claps, but she knew that once this painting appeared online, the praise would be overwhelming.