At the mention of this, Guo Neng gave him a glance, and his interest piqued.
He rolled over and sat up, speaking as if reciting a well-known fact, "You don't understand this, but there's a method to a pig's squeal. In the past, people cursed others by comparing them to pigs, calling them 'as stupid as swine,' but I disagree. I think people have misunderstood them. From what I've observed, pigs are actually quite clever. They never waste effort on trivial matters. They'd lie down rather than stand if they could, and only the prospect of eating or leaping over barriers seems to excite them. They rarely grunt when it's unnecessary, though they make exceptions, acting affectionately and grunting a few times when they see their owners, even if they're not hungry..."
Guo Neng talked on and on about the habits of pigs. There was nothing else he could do, trapped in the hidden room these days, bored and lost, full of anxiety and despair, he could only distract himself with something else.
