Chapter 0010: Modify the Pattern

Song Yuhan left the company, originally intending to return to the hotel, but for some reason, she suddenly thought of Ye Wudao. That guy had specially made a soup with good intentions and brought it to her today, only to be scolded by her until he was soaked in humiliation. He must be very upset now, right? Should she go back and apologize to him?

"No way! Why should I apologize to that country bumpkin?"

Song Yuhan immediately dismissed the idea, but in her mind, the image of Ye Wudao's lonely figure leaving her office surfaced again.

"Were the words I said today too harsh?" Song Yuhan thought gloomily. To ask a penniless country bumpkin to earn a million in a month was simply impossible.

After hesitating for a long time, she still drove home, planning to go back and see how that country bumpkin was doing. When Song Yuhan arrived at her residential complex and saw the lights on in the villa, she didn't know why, but she suddenly felt relieved, thinking that if the bumpkin appeared very sad, she would go and apologize to him.

However, when she opened the door, the first thing that caught her eye was not a heartbroken and pained Ye Wushen, but Ye Wudao, who was squatting on the chair, eating and drinking merrily, with half a chicken leg stuffed in his mouth and another in his hand, his mouth smeared with grease. Seeing Song Yuhan suddenly enter, he stared at her with wide-eyed surprise.

"Wife, you're back?" Ye Wudao quickly spat out the chicken leg in his mouth and said with a hint of ingratiating tone.

Song Yuhan, who had originally planned to come back and apologize, became furious at the scene before her. She kept a cold face and without giving him another look, said, "I'm back to take a shower and then I'm leaving."

After saying this, she threw the things in her hands forcefully onto the sofa and went upstairs without looking back. Just then, Ye Wudao's words finally came out.

"Wife, you don't have to go back to the hotel anymore, I... will leave soon." Ye Wudao said the rest of the sentence softly after Song Yuhan's figure was long gone.

After today's events, Wudao had also made up his mind. He wanted to earn money, to earn a million within a month; he naturally could not continue to live off Song Yuhan for free.

However, this guy didn't have a penny in his pocket, so he cooked all the edible things he could find in the refrigerator to have a feast. He wanted to eat his fill before leaving, so as not to go hungry later, not expecting Song Yuhan to suddenly return.

Ye Wudao, seeing Song Yuhan's cold face, could only silently clean up the dishes and utensils, wash them thoroughly and put them away. Then he neatly folded his Versace clothes worth 150,000 and placed them on the bed, and said to the upstairs, "Wife, I am leaving."

However, there was no sound from upstairs. Song Yuhan either did not hear or simply did not deign to answer him. Ye Wudao sighed and, carrying the wicker case, was about to leave when he suddenly saw a painting on the sofa.

And this drawing was the very jewelry design that Song Yuhan had brought back. Ye Wudao glanced at it with curiosity. Although he didn't know what it was, it seemed to be only halfway done. Out of curiosity, he picked up the design and took a look, finding it quite attractive, but a shame it was only half complete.

Looking at it from the left and then the right, Ye Wudao noticed that there were a few areas of the pattern that seemed not quite harmonious, which was rather unfortunate. It reminded him of a kind of flower he had once seen, which he felt matched the pattern very well.

On an impulse, he couldn't resist grabbing a ballpoint pen and started to scribble over the drawing. Before long, a complete pattern emerged on the paper, except half was drawn with a professional drawing pen, while the other half was in the unsightly color of ballpoint pen.

Ye Wudao put down the paper, increasingly pleased with the result. He felt that the pattern resonated perfectly with the natural aura of heaven and earth. Then suddenly, he got a shock, remembering he had tampered with that woman's stuff. She'd probably blow up later. He quickly laid the paper down, glanced at the empty second floor, and, relieved, then snuck away with the wicker box in hand.

Song Yuhan crouched in the shower, letting the water from the showerhead wash over her body. Her skin was spotlessly white, like carved jade, with water droplets falling along her long hair down to her ankles, as sharp as bamboo shoots. If Ye Wudao could see this scene, he would never again say that Fang Yi had a better figure than his wife.

After an indefinable amount of time, Song Yuhan finally stood up. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and suddenly let out a hysterical scream, as if venting her frustration. The wall was covered with droplets of water. Perhaps the outburst made her feel much better. She then turned off the shower and took a towel to dry her hair.

She got dressed, dried her hair, and prepared to go downstairs to retrieve her documents before driving out to a hotel. She really didn't want to – and couldn't imagine – living under the same roof with a stranger.

However, when she went downstairs, she didn't see any sign of Ye Wudao. She glanced at the dining table and found it had been cleaned, with the dishes neatly put away in the kitchen cupboard.

"Where did that bumpkin run off to?" Song Yuhan wondered, finding it strange. She had just seen him eating voraciously here, with his mouth all greasy.

Song Yuhan couldn't be bothered to look for him. She picked up her design drawing from the sofa, intending to leave, when she noticed that her design seemed to have been tampered with.

Song Yuhan was instantly furious, sure that the deadbeat Ye Wudao was behind this. If he had ruined her design drawing, she would kill him. Song Yuhan hurriedly spread out the paper and saw a complete pattern jump out at her.

The pattern on the paper struck Song Yuhan like lightning, exploding in her mind. The originally half-finished design seemed to come to life before her eyes. It was a complete flower, with a proud and lofty spirit, the purity of a Heavenly Mountain snow lotus, and a soul-stirring quality that went straight to the heart—exactly what Song Yuhan had always dreamt of capturing in her design.

Time passed without her noticing as Song Yuhan's gaze finally lifted from the pattern. Her whole body was trembling slightly with excitement. She looked at the ballpoint pen strokes on the pattern and murmured to herself, "Could it be that Wudao, the bumpkin, drew this?"