The charity gala was packed with stars. Many people came over to greet Jiang Hao when they saw him. The entertainment industry cared about status; if you lacked enough standing, some people genuinely wouldn't give you the time of day. Jiang Hao had no real status in the industry, but he didn't need it.
He was a major entrepreneur, the boss of an entertainment company, a super-rich man, and a top director. He had already transcended the entertainment circle and stood above everyone else. If Mayor Liao hadn't personally asked him to attend, he wouldn't have come at all.
At the auction gala, individuals brought out items for auction. Jiang Hao hadn't brought anything valuable; instead, he had the organizers prepare a long table along with Brush, Ink, Paper, and Inkstone.
"Next, please welcome Mr. Jiang Hao to the stage. Mr. Jiang Hao will paint a traditional ink-wash piece live as an auction item," the host announced loudly.
Jiang Hao stepped onto the stage and gave a slight bow.
The cameras focused on the paper.
In truth, people weren't particularly optimistic about Jiang Hao. Every profession had its specialty. He might be a wealthy tycoon, but that didn't necessarily mean he could paint well. At most, it was just a hobby.
The tip of his brush touched the rice paper, and the ink rapidly spread. Jiang Hao moved very quickly. This setting wasn't suited for detailed painting, so he had prepared a freehand landscape painting.
With only a few strokes, layered mountain ranges sprang to life on the paper. A few more strokes later, the surrounding peaks seemed veiled in mist and rosy clouds, hazy and dreamlike, conveying the painting's artistic mood to perfection.
Whether connoisseurs or laymen, everyone who saw the painting felt the same thing: ethereal tranquility, as