Huo Wen'an returned to his manor alone.
He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his wheelchair, "Zheng Lie."
A young man in red quickly walked over to him.
He was a very strange man, who had been standing by the doorpost of the hall for a long time, yet he seemed to blend into the surrounding air, not drawing anyone's attention.
But the moment Huo Wen'an summoned him, the temperature of the space he was standing in became scorching.
He was like a spark surrounded by dry grass, ready to ignite fervently at Huo Wen'an's call.
"Pilot," the man named Zheng Lie quietly stood beside Huo Wen'an, inquiring softly, "Do you have any orders?"
"Is there a gardener on the island by the name of Hong Ruhai?"
Everything on the island, from the identities and backgrounds of each person to the planting year of every big tree, was etched in Zheng Lie's memory like strings of data.
His brain was like a calculator, able to quickly retrieve the information Huo Wen'an wanted.
