He unexpectedly becomes a father at the start of his life, and the mother of his child is a national

"Each song is less than half an hour on average?" Lin Caiwei did the math and was even more shocked.

She walked to the control panel, picked up the listening headset, and said, "Let me listen."

Chen Hao played the nine recorded songs one by one.

Lin Caiwei closed her eyes and listened to the songs one by one.

The first song is titled "Time Amber".

Her voice was clean and clear, and she opened up completely in the chorus, dragging out the word "I" for four beats, with a perfect vibrato at the end.

The second song is "Wings Against the Wind".

She sang with a steady rhythm and plenty of power, and the key change in the chorus was very smooth. She didn't strain when she hit the high notes.

The third song is titled "Flowers of Dust".

She heard a slight sob in her voice when she sang the line "I bloom a flower in the dust".

She thought she had hidden it well, but the recording caught it.

It's not a flaw, it's an emotion.

The fourth, the fifth, the sixth...

With each song she listened to, her surprise grew.

The effect is amazing.

The sound quality of each song is very clean.

It's not the kind of clean that looks like plastic, but a natural, breathable clean.

The balance between vocals and accompaniment is just right, with vocals in front and accompaniment behind, clearly distinguishing the main and secondary elements, yet forming a seamless whole.

Chen Hao made many meticulous adjustments in the post-production process.

Where airiness is needed, he left ample space, making the sound resonate like it's in an empty room; where power is needed, he applied sufficient compression, making the sound tight and impactful.

Her minor flaws were cleverly concealed.

He corrected the pitch of a word that was slightly off, but preserved the emotional fluctuations in the singing; he added a little compression to a phrase that wasn't quite right, but it sounded like she was deliberately using breathy vocal techniques.

The overall sound is very natural, without any trace of excessive audio editing.

What's even more remarkable is that these songs capture the emotional atmosphere exceptionally well.

The emotions she poured into her performance have been completely preserved.

When she heard the demo, she was just "satisfied," but now that she's heard the finished product, she wants to describe it as "perfect."

She took off her headphones and turned to look at Chen Hao.

"Chen Hao," she said, "the recording you did for me is better than any of my previous albums."

She wasn't exaggerating; this was the truth.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, her voice soft but each word heavy. "Really, thank you so much."

Chen Hao smiled and began tidying up the headphone wires on the table: "The recording is good because you sing well."

I just pressed a button.

"No," Lin Caiwei shook her head, stubbornly correcting, "You've helped me too much."

These songs, and the recordings... without you, I don't know when I would have been able to make this album.

She looked at Chen Hao with gratitude, admiration, and something else in her eyes.

She dared not look at those other things for too long, afraid that he would find out, yet also afraid that he hadn't.

Chen Hao felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze, so he looked down to shut down the computer and turned off the power to the monitor speakers.

"Alright, don't be so polite."

He glanced at the time and changed the subject: "Are you hungry? I'll go make dinner."

Lin Caiwei snapped out of her daze and glanced at the time.

It's getting late; the sky outside the window has darkened, turning from gray to deep blue.

They recorded for more than three hours and didn't feel tired at all.

"I'll help you," she said.

Chen Hao paused for a moment, then said, "No need, you should rest. I can manage on my own."

"I want to help," Lin Caiwei insisted.

Before Chen Hao could say anything more, Sisi immediately jumped up from the sofa and ran over, her little feet pattering on the floor.

"Sisi wants to help too! Sisi can cook!"

Chen Hao looked at the expectant eyes of the mother and daughter and smiled helplessly.

He bent down and picked Sisi up, letting her sit on his arms: "Okay, let's do it together."

He paused, then said, "But does Sisi's help mean helping with the food?"

"No!" Sisi puffed out her cheeks, her eyebrows furrowed, and she argued very seriously.

"Sisi is really helpful! She can wash vegetables, plate food, and even wipe the table!"

"Okay, okay." Chen Hao smiled and pinched her little cheek. "Then thank you, Chef Sisi."

The family of three walked out of the recording studio, through the corridor, and toward the kitchen.

Lin Caiwei's kitchen is very large.

When she was decorating, she specifically chose an open island design with a light wood countertop and white cabinets, which was spacious and bright.

She rarely cooks when she lives alone, and the kitchen is only used a few times a year, but the designer said that an open-plan design would make the space look bigger, so she went with it.

Now the kitchen finally feels alive with the warmth of home cooking.

Chen Hao opened the refrigerator and took out the ingredients he would need for tonight.

He took things out one by one, and Lin Caiwei took them from the side and placed them on the island table.

"What are we having for dinner tonight?" she asked.

"Three dishes and a soup." Chen Hao laid out the ingredients.

"Pan-fried cod, black truffle scrambled eggs, stir-fried asparagus, and a matsutake chicken soup."

They are all high-end ingredients.

Silver cod has tender flesh and a silvery sheen on its white skin.

The black truffles were freshly arrived and in season, packaged in a breathable cardboard box, emitting their unique and rich aroma.

The asparagus was emerald green and fresh, each stalk upright, with tightly packed buds at the tips.

The matsutake mushrooms were air-freighted yesterday, wrapped in absorbent paper. The caps haven't fully opened yet, which is the best time to enjoy them.

Lin Caiwei looked at the ingredients and felt a little guilty.

She's not incapable of cooking; she knows a little, but only to the point of cooking food properly.

Fish sticks to the pan when fried, eggs get overcooked when scrambled, and salt is always forgotten when making soup.

"I can only do the work..." she said.

"Then I'll help you out," Chen Hao said naturally, handing her kitchen paper and a salt shaker.

"Please pat the cod dry with kitchen paper, then sprinkle both sides with salt and black pepper and marinate for ten minutes."

Lin Caiwei took the cod and did as instructed.

Her movements were somewhat clumsy.

When tearing kitchen paper, I tore it too big, and then I was in a rush to wrap it around the fish.

She wasn't sure how dry she needed to be when she was patting the fish dry, so she took kitchen paper and pressed it all over the fish, flipping it over after pressing one side.

Chen Hao was processing matsutake mushrooms nearby when he caught a glimpse of her movements out of the corner of his eye.

"That's fine," he said. "As long as there are no obvious water stains on the surface."

Lin Caiwei hummed in agreement and began sprinkling salt.

She didn't know how much to sprinkle, and hesitated, holding the salt shaker in mid-air.

"Pinch a small amount between your thumb and forefinger," Chen Hao said. "Spread it evenly, not too much."

Lin Caiwei did as instructed.

Salt grains dripped from her fingertips, spreading evenly over the surface of the fish.

She sprinkled black pepper again, her movements more practiced than before.

Marinate for ten minutes.

She placed the cod on a plate and pushed it to one side.

Chen Hao began processing the matsutake mushrooms.

He gently brushed away the surface dirt with a small brush, his movements very light, as if he were brushing a fragile item.

The soil on the matsutake mushrooms is dry; it can be easily brushed off, revealing the white flesh inside.

He then took a damp cloth and wiped it, not washed, but wiped it, again and again, to clean all the impurities from the crevices.