As Wang Chen followed the trail of footprints deeper into the green forest, the crunch of snow gradually faded beneath his boots, replaced by softer earth and scattered frost-tipped leaves. The towering trees swallowed the wind, their branches interlocking overhead like a living ceiling, filtering the pale light into muted streaks.
His steps slowed.
Just what is true freedom?
The question rose in his mind quietly, but it did not leave.
It lingered.
However, this was not something one could answer with a single thought. It demanded depth. It demanded honesty.
Before answering what freedom was, one first had to ask—
What exactly was restricting them?
For a trapped bird, wings beating helplessly against iron bars, freedom was the moment the cage door opened and the sky stretched endlessly ahead.
For someone shackled in an abusive bond, freedom was the end of fear. The silence after shouting stopped. The first breath taken without dread.
But those were mortal interpretations.
