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

Every stroke was placed precisely where it should be, and every shade of ink was perfectly mixed, without the slightest error.

Just like the eight-legged essays written by scholars in ancient times, they are neatly formatted and clearly organized, and no one can find any faults in them, but they are just plain and unremarkable, without any highlights that can catch people's eyes or move their hearts.

It's too craftsman-like, just a pile of formulaic techniques, lacking the most precious spirit and soul of a painting.

Chen Hao made up his mind, straightened up, took out his phone, and prepared to record all the details of the painting.

Instead of just taking a random photo, he first took a panoramic photo of the entire painting to ensure the composition was complete and the image was clear.

He then moved closer to the drawing paper, taking close-up photos of each part: the tree trunks and branches, the scattered houses, and the textured rocks.

The distant clouds and layered peaks were also captured individually, so that they could be easily saved and compared later.

After taking the photos, he put his phone aside, sat up straight, spread out the blank Xuan paper on the table, and slowly ground the ink in the inkstone.

As the ink gradually thickened and became more refined, he picked up the brush, paused with his wrist suspended, and mentally organized his words, intending to write a fair and objective critique.

He did not intend to use his real identity and would continue to use the pseudonym "Haolin".

He knew very well that the person who sent the painting for evaluation was Yu Mobai, who was over sixty or seventy years old and the president of the city's calligraphy and painting association. He was a well-known figure in the calligraphy and painting circle.

The fact that someone would humble themselves to send their treasured paintings for a younger generation to appreciate is truly commendable and deserves our utmost respect.

Therefore, he had to carefully consider the nuances of his words. He needed to point out the shortcomings and problems of the painting directly, helping the other party to understand the crux of the issue, but he also couldn't be too sharp or harsh, lest he offend the old man's pride and dignity.

Chen Hao picked up his pen and wrote words with steady and neat handwriting. He began by truthfully pointing out his strengths: solid painting skills, rigorous composition, and skillful brushwork. It is evident that the author has been immersed in this art for many years and has not achieved his goal overnight.

The texturing of rocks, the dotting of leaves on trees, and the outlining of buildings all follow established rules, with no element being careless.

These are all genuine advantages, without a trace of polite flattery.

Yu Mobai's basic skills are indeed impeccable; his years of experience in calligraphy and painting are evident at a glance, and he is very steady.

After writing down the advantages, he paused, then wrote down the core comments and suggestions, his tone objective and sincere: "However, painting is not merely a collection of techniques, but also a vivid expression of spirit and charm."

This painting is well-structured but lacks dynamism. The mountains are mountains, the trees are trees, and the houses are houses, each in its own right, but it lacks a natural, unforced vitality.

This is because the author was too bound by established rules and dared not deviate from them.

If we could leave some room for chance in our writing, it would be even better.

The clouds and water can be rendered more subtly, without needing to be too solid; the texture strokes for the rocks can be looser, without needing to be precise in every single stroke.

When you've mastered a painting, it's okay to let it feel fresh again.

The entire passage is devoid of empty rhetoric and clichés; it accurately pinpoints the core flaws of the painting and provides concrete and feasible directions for improvement.

After finishing writing, Chen Hao put down his brush and read through the completed commentary twice.

The tone was fair and impartial, without deliberately belittling or suppressing the other party's years of hard work, nor deliberately exaggerating or praising the painting's quality. The balance was just right.

He gently folded the paper neatly, stuffed it into a plain-colored envelope, sealed it, and then placed the envelope and the landscape painting together, storing them away carefully.

He didn't have Yu Mobai's private phone number or address, but Yu Mobai had said in person during their last meeting that he usually worked in the office of the Huaxia Calligraphy and Painting Association, so if something was sent there, he would definitely receive it without any problems.

After packing everything up, Chen Hao glanced at the time. It was neither too early nor too late; it was just the right time to pick up Sisi from school.

He stopped thinking about calligraphy and painting, packed his belongings, and went out on time to pick up his child.

When he had some free time in the afternoon, Chen Hao took the painting and the envelope to the courier point near his neighborhood.

When the staff were packing, he specifically instructed them to handle it carefully to avoid damaging the image or getting it stained.

After carefully filling in the recipient's address, name, and contact information, and confirming that everything was correct, the package was sent out.

The next morning, Chen Hao was at home taking care of chores when his phone suddenly rang.

A completely unfamiliar local number popped up on the screen, with no name or contact information, and it didn't seem like a sales call.

He stared at the number for two seconds, guessed roughly who it was, and after a brief pause, pressed the answer button.

A slightly aged voice came from the other end of the phone, trembling noticeably, its tone cautious and uncertain:

"Hello, is this... Mr. Haolin?"

"That's me." Chen Hao replied calmly, still not revealing his real name, and frankly using the pseudonym Haolin.

The next second, the tone on the other end of the phone changed completely. The previously restrained voice suddenly became excited and agitated, with a hint of barely concealed sobs:

"Mr. Haolin! This is Yu Mobai! I have received the painting and letter you sent back!"

I read your commentary over and over again, carefully considering every single word! You're absolutely right; every sentence hits the nail on the head, not a single one is wrong!

Yu Mobai was extremely excited, as if the confusion that had been bottled up in his heart for decades had finally found a breakthrough at this moment, and he felt completely enlightened.

He has been painting for most of his life. To outsiders, he is a highly respected Chairman Yu, with profound skills and exquisite techniques. Wherever he goes, he is praised.

But only he knew in his heart that his paintings were missing the most essential element, but he could never figure out where the problem lay, and no one around him ever dared to point it out directly.

"Mr. Haolin, you said my painting is too rigid and lacks liveliness. I can vaguely sense this problem myself, but in all these years, no one has ever told me the truth!"

Yu Mobai spoke rapidly, even somewhat incoherently, his words filled with emotion.

"People in the circle either lack the skill to see the problems with my paintings, or they are too afraid to point out my shortcomings because of my status. They all just praise my solid foundation and skillful brushwork."

But I know myself that what I lack is never technical skill, but that innate vitality and inspiration!

Chen Hao listened quietly to the phone without interrupting.

He could understand the old man's state of mind. He had devoted his life to calligraphy and painting, but had been trapped in an inherent bottleneck for many years. No one had given him any guidance or answered his questions. Ordinary people simply could not comprehend this kind of frustration and confusion.

Now that someone has finally pinpointed the crux of the problem, I must feel both excited and relieved.