"Baa?"
The llama in front of the scenic area gate was spat on by the little fox, its face covered in saliva. The llama was utterly confused, never having imagined being spat on by a fox.
This... isn't spitting supposed to be its own defensive tactic?
"What are you looking at? Never seen a fox before?" Watching the resentful expression on the llama's face, Ansheng, perched on Ah Qing's shoulder, shifted his position and stuck out his little fox leg, attempting to kick it.
Llamas look fine in videos.
But in reality, they're quite nasty—spitting whenever they feel threatened.
What they spit isn't just saliva but a mix of stomach acid, saliva, and half-digested grass.
That phlegm stinks horribly, and the stench lingers for a long time.
Ansheng had been tricked by these llamas during a spring field trip in his past life.
At the time, classmates joked, "Did you eat old pickled cabbage and soil your pants last night?"
