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

The silence in the living room lasted for more than ten seconds, so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, each tick like a slow, heavy tap on your heart.

Sunlight streamed in at an angle through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled shadows on the gleaming marble floor.

The green leaves that had fallen on the corner of the wall reflected a faint shimmer, yet they could not dispel the subtle stillness in the air.

Lin Sinian sat on the large leather sofa, his back straight, exuding a calm aura. However, at this moment, there was a hint of wavering in that calmness.

His gaze slowly moved, first landing on the painting "Autumn Wind in Ten Thousand Valleys" hanging on the wall—the frame was made of dark rosewood, with smooth and warm edges, which made the scenery in the painting appear even more vigorous and distant.

The distant mountains rise in layers, the ink tones ranging from dark to light, creating distinct layers. The autumn wind in the mountains seems to blow through the canvas, swirling up fallen leaves, and even the tilting posture of the pine branches is lifelike.

He looked at it for a long time, then his gaze slowly moved down and landed on the "Pine and Crane Longevity" book unfolded on the coffee table.

The painting is exquisite, with the red-crowned crane's wings depicted in meticulous detail. The crane stands on a pine branch, its posture elegant and its eyes lively. Even the veins of the pine needles are clearly visible, exuding an auspicious and peaceful atmosphere.

Finally, his gaze settled on Chen Hao's face.

Chen Hao sat on the single sofa opposite him, his posture upright and his back straight. His face was expressionless, calm as a deep pool, showing neither deliberate flattery nor the slightest awkwardness.

Lin Ssu-nien's expression was complex; his brows were slightly furrowed, and his eyes held obvious surprise, an disbelief at the young man before him.

There was also a deep-seated doubt, like a thin mist, shrouding his eyes, which he could not shake off;

Besides that, there was something else that was hard to define, like confusion or bewilderment after having one's preconceived notions shattered, mixed with surprise and doubt, which made his expression particularly solemn.

After a long silence, he slowly spoke, his voice dry as if he hadn't spoken in a long time, his throat tight, each word tinged with hesitation:

"Are you sure?" He paused, his gaze fixed on Chen Hao's eyes, trying to find a flaw in his expression.

"Did you paint both of these paintings?"

Chen Hao met his gaze without flinching, simply nodding slightly, his tone flat and emotionless, as if he were stating something utterly ordinary:

"Yes."

One word, concise and clear, yet carrying an unquestionable certainty, without any superfluous explanation or deliberate boasting, calmly responding to Lin Sinian's doubts.

Lin Sinian stared at him for a long time, his eyes sharp, as if he were examining a rare treasure or judging the authenticity of a person.

His gaze swept back and forth across Chen Hao's face, from his youthful features to his calm expression and composed posture. The more he looked, the deeper his suspicions grew.

The young man looked to be in his early twenties, with a touch of youthful naiveté in his eyes and a healthy tan.

His eyes were clear yet revealed a maturity beyond his years; no matter how you looked at him, he didn't seem like someone who could paint landscapes at that level.

He glanced again, almost subconsciously, at the painting "Autumn Wind in Ten Thousand Valleys" on the wall. The brushwork in that painting was profound and skillful, with vigorous and powerful lines.

The ink tones are just right, the composition is rigorous, and the artistic conception is profound. It would be impossible to reach such a level without two or three decades of immersion and refinement.

When it comes to painting, you can't lie. You reap what you sow. The skill in brush and ink is cultivated over time, not something that can be achieved overnight with talent.

Even if a young person in their twenties starts learning to paint from the womb and works day and night without stopping, it is impossible to develop such a consummate skill, let alone create such a work with such character and charm.

This was so illogical that he couldn't believe it.

Just then, Sisi, who was sitting next to Chen Hao, seemed to sense the heavy atmosphere. She tilted her head slightly.

A pair of big, round eyes sparkled as they stared intently at Lin Sinian, her brows slightly furrowed and her lips slightly pursed.

With a hint of grievance and resentment, her voice was soft and sweet, yet it also carried a touch of determination:

"Great-Grandpa, don't you believe me?" she said, tugging at Chen Hao's clothes with her little hand, then looking up at Lin Sinian with expectant eyes.

"Sisi, let Daddy draw one for you right here! You'll see for yourself! Daddy can draw really fast and well!"

Lin Sinian was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting this little girl to suddenly say such a thing.

Draw on the spot?

He blinked unconsciously, his suspicion deepening in his eyes.

He had met many painters, and even experienced painters with profound skills needed to carefully conceive their works on the spot. How could a landscape painting like this, which was worthy of being presented, be painted so easily?

If Chen Hao really didn't have such skills, wouldn't he have given himself away if he painted on the spot?

He looked at Chen Hao with a hint of inquiry in his eyes, wanting to see how the young man would respond.

Chen Hao felt his gaze, and a gentle smile slowly appeared on his face. The smile was very faint.

Yet, he exuded a calm and unhurried air as he gently rubbed Sisi's head, his tone gentle and natural:

"Grandpa, do you have any painting tools here? If so, I'll paint one right here and show it to you, so that your doubts can be dispelled."

His tone was calm, without the slightest hint of panic, as if he had already made up his mind and was not worried at all about any problems with his painting on the spot.

Lin Sinian gently shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness, and a subtle sense of relief—

Perhaps this young man was just bragging; without art supplies, he wouldn't have bothered to embarrass himself on the spot.

"I only have paintings in my collection here, no painting tools," he said calmly, but the suspicion in his eyes remained undiminished.

"I usually only collect calligraphy and paintings, but I never paint myself, so I don't keep brushes, ink, paper and inkstones at home."

Sisi thought for a moment, her brows furrowed, and her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, as if she was pondering a good solution.

A moment later, her eyes lit up, as if she had thought of a brilliant idea. A smile instantly bloomed on her face, and she skipped and hopped, pulling Lin Sinian's hand, her voice becoming even more cheerful:

"Then let's go to Sisi's house! Sisi's house has her dad's painting supplies! Lots and lots of them, including brushes, rice paper, ink, and everything else!"

Great-Grandpa came with us to Sisi's house and had Dad draw it for you, so you'd believe it!