Jian Chen groaned, blinking against the sunlight filtering through the trees, and immediately regretted everything. Or rather, not everything—just most things. Mostly decisions leading up to this moment. Mainly alcohol. Definitely alcohol.
He squinted at the forest floor, which was suspiciously uncomfortable and suspiciously full of sticks. Wait—was that… a boar?
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh FUCK!" he cried, scrambling to his feet, arms flailing like a twig almost cut off from it's branch. The boar snorted, enormous and magnificent, with tusks gleaming in the sun, worthy of it's name the MGNIFICENT BOAR .
Jian Chen did what any sensible, completely overwhelmed sixteen-year-old rich heir would do: he ran. Zigzagging, bouncing off roots, nearly face-planting twice, screaming incoherent nonsense about his Mom, younger brother, and how unfair life was.
Then, out of the corner of his bloodshot, hungover eye, he saw it. A massive hardwood trunk lying perfectly on the forest floor. A weapon. A solution. A lifeline.
"Yes. Yes. This… this is it," he muttered to himself, gripping the end with panic. "I can do this… maybe."
Charging like a deranged noodle, he flailed toward the trunk. He tripped, slid, nearly collided with a tree, and somehow—pure, unintentional miracle—ended up thrusting the trunk upward just as the magnificent boar charged.
There was a sharp, ridiculous thunk, a startled grunt, and then… silence.
Jian Chen blinked. The boar's eyes were wide, its legs flailing weakly, and then it slumped. The trunk had somehow pierced its throat, perfectly vertical, a fatal accident that even he couldn't have planned if he tried.
He dropped to his knees, chest heaving, sweat and forest grime smeared all over his face. "Yep… nailed it," he said with a drunken, exhausted sigh. "Just like I planned."
Except he hadn't planned any of it.
And somehow… that was Jian Chen in a nutshell.
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