Watching Titus Zane's satisfied expression, Nathan Moore felt that his own likeness, as drawn by her, must be like a handsome and elegant figure standing amidst wind-swept willows, stunningly dashing, even if not reversing the admiration of all beings, at least causing nations to fall and cities to surrender.
Just as he propped himself up to get out of bed and take a look, Titus Zane had already risen from the floor, walked to the front of the bed and turned around to hand over her proud masterpiece to Nathan Moore.
"Look, isn't the essence of the portrait lifelike?"
With great anticipation, Nathan Moore reached out to take it and saw the "himself" in the painting, and his handsome face darkened.
He thrust the portrait back in front of Titus Zane and asked with a cold tone,
"Are you sure this is my portrait?"
"Mmm-hmm!" With a very proud raised eyebrow, Titus Zane was for the first time in her life so content with her own artwork.
