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

The studio was very quiet, so quiet that you could hear the soft scratching of the brush against the rice paper, and the occasional birdsong from outside the window, which was quickly swallowed up by the stillness inside.

Chen Hao stood in front of the painting table, his posture upright. His left hand gently pressed on the edge of the Xuan paper, his fingertips applying slight pressure to hold the paper in place. His right hand held a fine-line brush, the handle of which felt warm and smooth in his grip.

His gaze was fixed on the drawing paper, his brows furrowed, his eyes so focused that everything around him seemed irrelevant, except for the phoenix that was about to take shape under his brush.

The draft of "A Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix" is mostly complete. The phoenix sits in the center of the picture, head held high and wings outstretched, its posture proud and elegant.

With its wings spread wide, it exudes an air of dominance over the world. Hundreds of birds surround it, some flying and some perching, their distribution already arranged, each with its own posture, not appearing chaotic.

Now he's doing the finer work, which is the most painstaking step—every feather, every tail feather.

Each painting must be exquisite yet unpretentious, highlighting the phoenix's magnificence while retaining the fluidity of ink painting, without the slightest hint of perfunctoriness.

With a fine brush tip dipped in the right amount of ink, the brush gently traced the tip of the phoenix's tail feathers, outlining the feather's texture stroke by stroke.

The ink tones are well-balanced, possessing both the weight of dark colors and the lightness of light colors, creating distinct layers.

He drew very slowly, pausing for a moment after each stroke, squinting to examine it carefully, making sure there were no deviations, before continuing with the next stroke.

Sometimes, if I feel that a certain pattern is not natural enough, I will use a clean brush to gently blend and adjust the ink color until I am satisfied.

[Ding! Refined the details of the phoenix tail feathers in "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix", drawing skill experience points +380]

The phone suddenly vibrated beside the drawing table. The buzzing sound wasn't loud, but it was particularly jarring in the quiet studio, instantly interrupting Chen Hao's train of thought.

His hand suddenly paused, and the tip of the brush lightly touched the rice paper, leaving a small ink dot.

Chen Hao frowned, stopped what he was doing, put down the drawing pen, wiped the ink stains off his fingertips, and picked up his phone.

The screen displayed an unfamiliar number, registered in Shanghai—a string of numbers completely foreign to everyone.

He couldn't remember knowing anyone in Shanghai, let alone giving his phone number to strangers.

Chen Hao hesitated for a moment, his fingertip hovering over the answer button. After a couple of seconds, he pressed the answer button.

"Hello." His voice was calm, with a hint of detachment as if his train of thought had just been interrupted.

"Hello, is this Mr. Haolin?" A young man's voice came from the other end of the phone, polite and warm in tone, speaking slowly, with a deliberate attempt to maintain politeness.

"I am an editor of the magazine 'Oriental Art,' my surname is Liu, you can call me Editor Liu."

Chen Hao paused for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly as he gripped his phone.

Haolin is his pen name. When he finished painting and consigned it to Yulantang Gallery, He Muqing asked him to sign it. He didn't want to use his real name, so he just randomly chose this pen name.

Many people know this name: gallery owners, collectors who have bought his paintings, and a few people in the art world. But very few people know that this name is associated with his phone number; almost none.

"Yes, that's me," Chen Hao replied, his tone still calm, but a hint of wariness creeping into his voice. "What can I do for you, Editor Liu?"

"That's right, Mr. Haolin," Editor Liu's voice remained enthusiastic.

"Our magazine is currently doing a special issue on contemporary ink painters, specifically featuring talented and promising emerging ink painters."

I came across your work by chance and admired it very much. I would like to invite you to do an exclusive interview to talk about your creative philosophy, creative experience, and the stories behind your works.

When is a convenient time for you? We can arrange a visit according to your availability, either in person or at a place that suits you.

Chen Hao didn't answer immediately. He frowned, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of his phone, his vigilance growing even stronger.

He had heard of the magazine "Oriental Art"; it was considered a relatively influential and reputable publication in the domestic art world, with a considerable circulation.

The audience is mostly art enthusiasts, collectors, and industry professionals. Being featured in their special section is a significant achievement for any painter.

These are all rare exposure opportunities that can greatly enhance brand awareness and even attract more collectors, which will be of great benefit to future development.

But he doesn't want to be in the public eye right now; in fact, he can't be.

He paused for a few seconds before asking:

"How did you obtain my contact information? I recall that I never gave my phone number to your magazine, nor did I disclose it in any public setting."

"Oh, Mr. Haolin, please don't worry," Editor Liu quickly explained, her tone still polite.

"We obtained your contact information through Yulantang Gallery."

Some time ago we contacted Manager He of Yulantang to express our desire to interview you. Manager He said that we needed your consent.

We cannot disclose your information to us without your consent, which is why we called you first to confirm your wishes.

Mr. Haolin, your works have recently generated a great deal of interest among collectors, especially your "Sea of ​​Clouds and Pine Trees".

Many collectors have praised your work highly, and our magazine would very much like to have the opportunity to report on you and your work; this would be a wonderful opportunity for you as well.

"Excuse me," Chen Hao interrupted him, his tone calm but firm, without the slightest hesitation.

"I am not accepting interviews at the moment."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Perhaps they hadn't expected such a decisive rejection; the enthusiasm in their voice faded slightly, but they still maintained their politeness.

"Mr. Haolin, do you have any concerns? You don't need to worry. Our magazine is a legitimate art publication and we would never report anything inappropriate."

We will not ask you about things you don't want to disclose, and the interview content will be communicated and confirmed with you in advance to ensure it meets your wishes.

Moreover, this interview will greatly help increase your profile; many emerging painters would love to do that. Would you consider it further?

"I understand." Chen Hao's tone remained firm and unwavering.

"I know the influence of your magazine, and I know this interview is an opportunity for me, but I am indeed not available to be interviewed right now."

Thank you for your kindness, I'm sorry to trouble you.

Editor Liu sensed his resolute attitude and knew that further persuasion would be futile, so she could only sigh helplessly.

"Well... alright. Mr. Haolin, we respect your decision."

If you change your mind later, please feel free to contact us. This is my phone number; please save it. You can communicate with me about any thoughts you may have.