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

In his studio, Chen Hao put down his last brushstroke.

He held that wolf-hair brush for almost an hour, until his fingertips were a little stiff. When he put it down, his wrist trembled slightly, and the tip of the brush left no extra ink mark on the drawing table—he had such precise control.

He took two steps back, the wooden floorboards beneath his feet creaking slightly, but he paid no attention, his entire focus on the newly completed painting "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix" on the easel.

He leaned back slightly, squinted at the painting for a while, then took two steps forward, squatted down, stared at the lower half of the painting, and made sure that every detail was correct before straightening up and letting out a slow sigh.

The painting is a full sheet of Xuan paper, four feet long, spread out on the painting table, taking up most of the table.

The phoenix in the very center is the core of the entire painting. It stands tall and proud, with a noble posture, but its eyes are not sharp. Instead, they are kind and gentle, like an elder looking at a younger generation.

Its tail feathers are very long, like flowing clouds in the sky, light and soft, but each feather is drawn clearly and delicately, yet it does not seem deliberate, without that stiff feeling of being overly crafted. It looks like real phoenix tail feathers are gently swaying.

The phoenix is ​​surrounded by a dense array of various birds, a phenomenon known as "a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix".

No two birds are in the same pose. Some are flapping their wings and flying, their wings spread wide, as if they have just flown in from afar and are eager to pay homage to the phoenix. Some are perched on nearby branches, tucking their necks in to rest, occasionally tilting their heads to glance at the phoenix. Some have their beaks open, as if they are chirping, and their voices seem to come out of the painting. Others have their heads down, preening their feathers with their pointed beaks, their movements slow and leisurely.

Chen Hao glanced around and recognized quite a few of the birds.

Sparrows are the most common, huddled together in groups of three or five, their small bodies round and plump, their beaks open, clearly chirping incessantly; their lively energy can be felt even through the painting. Magpies are also there, their black and white feathers clearly distinguished, their long, thin tails held high, looking festive, as if congratulating the phoenix. The thrushes are small and delicate, their crests high on their heads, perched on slender branches, their posture charming, as if they're about to burst into beautiful song. The orioles are entirely golden, like tiny tufts of gold. The sun, with its wingtips tinged with black, stood out conspicuously beside the phoenix's wings, as if it were accompanying the phoenix; the mandarin ducks were in pairs, their feathers particularly vibrant in color, a male and a female huddled together, heads touching, looking very intimate; the egrets stood gracefully, their long necks curving into a beautiful arc, standing quietly at the very edge, like elegant observers; the swallows, on the other hand, swooped down, their wings tucked tightly, their tails forked like small scissors, as if they had just skimmed the water's surface, hurrying over.

Besides the birds whose names he could name, there were many others whose names he couldn't recall.

Some are bright red, like a ball of flame; some are deep blue, like the color of the sky; and some are emerald green and light purple. All sorts of colors come together, looking colorful but not chaotic at all. Instead, they exude an elegance and are not gaudy at all.

They all surrounded the phoenix, some flying close, some far, some high, some low, each with a different posture, yet all facing the phoenix, as if they were devoutly worshipping it, or as if they were singing and dancing around it, lively yet orderly.

The whole painting looks very imposing, with hundreds of birds surrounding it and a phoenix in the center, giving off a magnificent and awe-inspiring feeling.

Chen Hao stood there for a long, long time. At first, he frowned and carefully checked if there was anything he had drawn poorly. Later, his brows slowly relaxed, the corners of his mouth gradually lifted, and a satisfied smile appeared in his eyes.

This is the painting that took him the longest to complete, and it's also the one he considers his best.

From the initial concept to the actual writing and completion, it took about a week.

During this week, he spent every spare moment in the studio. Sometimes he would start painting as soon as he got up in the morning and paint for the whole morning, forgetting to eat breakfast. Sometimes he would paint until late at night, with the studio lights on until the early hours of the morning.

Every stroke was carefully considered. If he made a mistake, he would redraw it. Sometimes he would draw a single feather three or four times until he was satisfied. He strived for perfection in every detail. Even the eyes of a small bird would be repeatedly outlined to ensure that the eyes were lifelike and expressive.

His masterful painting skills are on full display in this painting, without any reservations.

Just as he finally put down his pen and breathed a sigh of relief, a system notification suddenly sounded in his mind, clear and without any noise.

[Ding! Completed the masterpiece "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix," gaining a large amount of painting skill experience points. You are only one step away from the next skill level!]

Chen Hao was overjoyed, and his eyes lit up.

He had previously guessed that the Grandmaster level was not the end, and there must be higher realms ahead. Now, the system's notification confirms his thoughts.

All the hard work over the past few days has finally paid off. Not only did he create a satisfactory artwork, but he's also about to upgrade his skills. This double surprise made him unable to contain his smile.

He stood in front of the painting table again, looked at the painting for a while, and became more and more satisfied and fond of it.

Thinking that such a good work should be photographed to keep as a memento, I turned around, walked to the table next to me, picked up my phone, unlocked the screen, and opened the camera.

He took photos from several different angles. First, he took a panoramic photo to capture the entire painting, ensuring that every bird and every detail was clearly visible. Then, he took close-up photos, focusing on the phoenix's body and tail feathers, as well as other birds with unique postures. Next, he took close-up photos of the phoenix, capturing its eyes and the texture of its feathers clearly. Finally, he took a group photo of hundreds of birds, capturing the feeling of a lively worship.

He took more than a dozen photos, flipped through them, and selected a few that were the clearest and best captured the essence of the painting. Then he exited the camera and found He Muqing's number.

He Muqing is the manager of Yulantang Gallery. Previously, his paintings were all consigned through her. The two had always worked together very well. Moreover, He Muqing has a good eye and can see the value of his paintings and find suitable collectors.

He tapped his finger and dialed He Muqing's number.

The phone was answered less than a second after it rang. He Muqing's voice came from the other end, filled with obvious expectation, even a little urgency: "Mr. Chen! Did you call with good news?"