A Billionaire CEO Brings His Child Home: The Awakening of the Stay-at-Home Dad System

"Dad taught me!" Shen Xiaoting turned and pointed at Chen Hao, who had just walked in, her finger almost poking him.

"Dad draws much better than me! Dad's drawings of Xiong Da and Xiong Er are exactly the same as the ones on TV!"

Chen Bingzhong walked over with a teacup, glanced down at the paintings, and snorted, "They're not bad."

He was referring to Tingting's painting.

His tone was indifferent, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He switched the teacup to his left hand, stretched out his right hand, picked up the picture of Xiong Da (Big Bear) and looked at it, then put it down. He then picked up the picture of Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf, looked at it, and put it down again.

In the end, he said nothing, turned around and walked back, sat down in a chair, and took another sip of tea.

But he didn't swallow the tea for a long time; he just held it in his mouth, his eyes darting around, lost in thought.

Chen Hao washed his hands and sat down at the octagonal table.

The eight-immortal table is made of old elm wood and has been used for more than 20 years. The paint on the tabletop has been worn away, revealing the original color of the wood, which feels smooth to the touch.

Shen Xiaoting climbed onto her little stool and arranged the rabbit-shaped chopsticks.

The chopsticks were bought for her by Meng Meiling; they were pink and had rabbit heads printed on them. She treasured them terribly and insisted on setting them herself every time she ate.

Meng Meiling brought the dishes up—

Braised fish, stir-fried pork with chili peppers, stir-fried green beans, and tomato and egg soup—four dishes and a soup, steaming hot.

The braised fish was bought by Chen Bingzhong from town that afternoon; it was a fresh crucian carp, pan-fried until golden brown on both sides.

Pour on soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, shredded ginger, and minced garlic, and simmer for ten minutes, filling the whole house with aroma.

The stir-fried pork with chili peppers uses thinly sliced ​​pork belly, which is then rendered to release its oil. The chili peppers are grown in our own yard and are spicy enough.

Shen Xiaoting picked up a piece of fish, carefully removed the bones, put it in her mouth, chewed it a couple of times, then suddenly put down her chopsticks and said excitedly:

"Grandpa, Grandma, Dad painted a landscape painting today! It's so beautiful!"

Meng Meiling served her granddaughter a bowl of soup and asked with a smile, "Landscape painting? You mean the kind that depicts mountains and rivers?"

"Mmm!" Shen Xiaoting nodded vigorously, her head bobbing like a chick pecking at rice.

"The mountains Dad drew are so tall, there are so many trees, and there are houses, streams, bridges, and clouds! It looks so real!"

Chen Bingzhong took a sip of soup and said dismissively:

"It's not surprising that your dad can draw cartoons; he liked to doodle in his textbooks when he was a kid. Landscape paintings, you know—"

He glanced at Chen Hao but didn't continue.

He felt that landscape painting was something only old painters could create, and what could his son, a coder, possibly paint?

He thought this to himself, but didn't say it aloud.

After all, my son had only been back for a short time, and I was afraid of hurting his pride by telling him.

Seeing that her grandparents didn't quite believe her, Shen Xiaoting became anxious and raised her voice:

"It's true! Dad's landscape paintings are so beautiful! Lots of uncles and aunties wanted to buy them! In the end, someone spent over 60,000 yuan to buy them!"

The convenience store was silent for a second.

The soup spoon in Meng Meiling's hand stopped in mid-air.

She turned to look at Chen Hao, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly agape, soup dripping from her spoon onto the table, which she didn't bother to wipe away.

"Hao, is what Tingting said true?"

Chen Hao was picking up food, his chopsticks just reaching for the plate of stir-fried pork with chili peppers, when he heard his mother's question. He put down his chopsticks and nodded.

"It's true. I painted a landscape painting during my live stream today, and some people in the live stream wanted to buy it, so I started an auction, and it eventually sold for 65,800 yuan."

The convenience store was quiet for two seconds.

Chen Bingzhong stopped holding the bowl, his chopsticks still holding a piece of fish, which was hanging in mid-air, as he forgot to put it in his mouth.

He looked at Chen Hao, his expression shifting from indifference to shock, and then from shock to a complex, incredulous look.

"Sixty-five thousand?" His voice trembled slightly, as if something was stuck in his throat. "A painting? Sixty-five thousand?"

"Hmm." Chen Hao nodded, his tone calm, as if he were saying that the weather was nice today.

He picked up the piece of stir-fried pork with chili peppers, put it in his mouth, chewed it, and then picked up another piece.

Stir-fried pork with chili peppers doesn't taste good when it's cold; it has to be eaten hot.

Meng Meiling put down her soup spoon, wiped her hands on her apron, walked over to Chen Hao, and looked him up and down as if she didn't recognize her son.

She stared at him for a good five or six seconds, looking him up and down, then back up again, before finally settling her gaze on his face.

"Ah Hao, when did you learn to paint landscapes? And you can sell them for so much money? Our little shop can't even earn 65,000 yuan a year."

"Mom, I've been studying for a while now," Chen Hao said with a smile.

"I drew one during today's live stream, and someone happened to like it."

He didn't mention the system; even if he did, no one would believe him.

I'll just say it's what I learned. Anyway, when it comes to learning to draw, no one can find fault with it.

"Sixty-five thousand..." Chen Bingzhong put down his bowl, picked up his thermos, and took a sip of tea. He drank it too quickly, burned his tongue, and hissed. He took another sip, as if trying to calm his nerves.

"One of your paintings is worth more than my small shop for a year."

When he said this, his tone contained surprise, emotion, and a somewhat indescribable feeling.

He ran a small shop for twenty years, working from dawn till dusk, and only earned about fifty or sixty thousand yuan a year.

My son spends two or three hours on one painting, which is equivalent to a year's work for him.

Meng Meiling sat back down in her chair, still finding it hard to believe.

She glanced at Chen Hao, then at Tingting. Shen Xiaoting was eating her meal with a smug look on her face, her little face full of "My dad is awesome" expressions, her mouth covered in rice grains, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

"Tingting, you said the person who bought the painting spent 65,000?" Meng Meiling asked again, wanting to make sure she hadn't misheard.

"Mmm!" Shen Xiaoting nodded vigorously, a grain of rice falling from the corner of her mouth.

"Grandma, there was also that annoying third grandpa today. He said Dad's painting would never sell, but it sold for 65,000 yuan. He was so angry his face turned green, and then he ran away!"

Chen Bingzhong frowned slightly when he heard the words "Third Grandfather".

Of course he knew who Tingting was talking about—Chen Zhenhua, that cousin who always wandered around with a teacup in his hand and couldn't stand seeing others do well.

Chen Zhenhua's son opened a hardware store in town, but business was lukewarm. Chen Zhenhua would tell everyone he met that his son was successful, having become a shop owner.

But everyone knows that the hardware store doesn't make much money in a month, and it's almost unable to pay the rent.

"That Chen Zhenhua is here again?" Chen Bingzhong's tone turned cold, and his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

"It's here." Chen Hao picked up a piece of stir-fried pork with chili peppers, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly.

"They came while I was painting and chatted a lot of nonsense."

"What did he say?" Meng Meiling asked.

She knows Chen Zhenhua too well.

That person has no self-control; they can say the most nasty things.

When Chen Haogang came back last time, Chen Zhenhua made sarcastic remarks at the entrance of the convenience store, saying that he "couldn't make it in the big city, so he came back," which made Chen Bingzhong so angry that he almost got into a fight with him.