Driving the car and shaking his head, Old Master Ink repeatedly criticized Summer Sutton, "Such a coward! Such a coward!"

Summer couldn’t care less; she wasn’t as fierce as Old Master. She hadn’t flown a fighter jet and didn’t have his skills, so she couldn’t do anything as big as he’d done.

Following Manuel Ink to the back hill, Summer was initially planning to pick evening primrose.

However, Manuel led her past the clusters of flowers to a mysterious flower patch.

The flowers planted there were ones that Summer hadn’t seen before. They were seven-colored blooms, radiantly rainbow-like under the sunlight.

After entering, Manuel said nothing and bent over to start picking them.

Seeing Summer standing there, staring blankly, he pulled her over, pressed her to squat down, and pick together with him.

"What are these for?" Summer asked suspiciously.

Just as Manuel was about to answer, Old Master’s scolding suddenly sounded from the sky, "Manuel Ink, what are you doing? Stop it! Stop it! Stupid boy, did you hear me?"

The old man shouted fiercely, as if his lifeline was being threatened.

As Summer lifted her face, Old Master Ink’s plane was flying toward her and Manuel’s direction.

He flew low enough that Summer could clearly see his expression.

Furious, he looked ready to explode.

Such a sight left Summer stunned, not knowing what had happened.

Manuel ignored Old Master’s words, continuing to pull flowers from the ground.

His movements were swift and decisive, unlike Summer’s cautious approach, afraid of damaging the flowers.

He directly uprooted them.

Gathering a bunch, he casually tied them, turned, and stuffed them into Summer’s arms.

"Hold them well!" With his head down, he continued to pick more.

"Manuel Ink, you brat! Just you wait! Wait!" Old Master was still above them, seemingly furious.

Summer and Manuel were in the back hill, all slopes, with no place for the plane to land.

Summer even thought, if there were a patch of grass in front of her, Old Master might directly land the plane, roll up his sleeves, and start beating up people.

Old Master’s plane circled above them repeatedly, unable to find a place to land, then flew back to the airfield.

Manuel’s expression didn’t change from start to finish; he kept picking.

He picked a lot, turning the flower patch unrecognizable, yet felt no shame.

Pulling Summer out, he advised her, "Wash them thoroughly, dry them, and take them with you later."

He only mentioned taking them back when she left, giving no other explanation.

But Summer instantly understood.

This medicine was related to healing her leg injury.

Summer lifted her face to quietly look at him, her lips curving gently, "Manuel, thank you. You’ve really helped me a lot."

Manuel responded with a casual "Mm," walking ahead toward the main house.

Just as they reached the door, with mud still on his hands, Old Master furiously drove up in an electric cart.

Seeming utterly provoked by Manuel, he parked close by them, got out, and approached. Without any explanation, he raised his cane to strike Manuel, "You brat! I wasted raising you! The things your grandpa painstakingly planted for years, and here you go, just giving them away! Who is she to you? For you to protect her like this? It’s fine if you give it to family, but she hasn’t even entered this house yet!"