The morning sun spilled over the rooftops of the small village in the mountains, casting long shadows across cobblestone streets. Today was the day every eighteen-year-old would leave their home to seek the elusive "good life."
The village square buzzed with laughter and chatter. Boys and girls Hei's age stood tall in their finest clothes, parents beaming at their sides. One boasted about the academy he'd soon join. Another already had family land waiting. Everyone spoke of bright futures, full of talent, money, or connections. Everyone — except Hei.
Hei tugged at his worn shirt, feeling smaller with every word that reached his ears. His parents had died long ago; he had been raised by the kindness — and pity — of neighbors. He had no family name to carry, no coin to spend, no gift or skill to call his own.
As the ceremony ended, he made his way to the mayor's home — a simple house, lined with books and maps. The old man was waiting, eyes calm, as if he had been expecting Hei all along.
"You don't believe in this journey, do you?" the mayor asked.
Hei clenched his fists. "…How could I? Everyone talks about living the good life. But they all have something I don't. Talent. Wealth. A place in the world. Me? I've got nothing. Maybe the good life isn't meant for everyone."
The mayor studied him for a long moment, then reached into his desk. He pulled out a small envelope, sealed with wax and marked with a faint symbol.
"Then carry this," the mayor said, placing it in Hei's hands. "Do not open it yet. Walk the world, ask your questions, live your journey. When the time comes — when you truly wish to know the answer — open it. Until then, let the path speak for itself."
Hei stared at the letter, its weight far heavier than paper should allow.
"…And if there is no answer?" he whispered.
The mayor's eyes softened. "Then at least you will have lived enough to know."
***
Hei travelled down the mountain, admiring the breathtaking scenery.
Rocky peaks jutted into the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape. Beside him, a small stream flowed gracefully,
its clear water winding downstream. Trees flourished, their wind rustling in the breeze.
The scenery continued to change with each hour Hei travelled.
As dusk fell, the sky deepened into indigo, and the first stars appeared, sparkling like scattered gems. Hei's pack felt heavier now, and hunger gnawed at his stomach. He slowed, scanning the shadows along the path.
That's when he spotted the faint flicker of fire ahead. He crept closer, trying to stay quiet, but a twig snapped under his boot.
The man at the fire didn't flinch. He glanced up from the skewers of meat turning over the flames and smirked.
"Not much of a thief, are you?"
Hei froze. "I–I wasn't stealing!" His face flushed hot. "I was just… checking if you were, uh… a bandit."
The man raised an eyebrow, amused. "So you thought the best way to check was by sneaking up and snapping branches?"
Hei's mouth opened, but no excuse came out. He crossed his arms instead, muttering, "Well, you look more like a bandit than me anyway."
The man chuckled, shaking his head as he turned the meat again. "Relax, boy. I'm just a wanderer. Hungry?"
Hei's nose betrayed him before he could answer — the smell of roasted meat was too rich, too sharp. His pride said no, but his empty stomach growled yes. With a reluctant sigh, he sat down and snatched a skewer. "...Fine. But only because I don't want to waste food."
Hei lay back on the grass, staring at the stars, still chewing on the last bite of skewered meat.
Countless stars pulsed in the black sky, sharp as shattered glass and bright enough to pierce the night.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the Wanderer said, his voice soft as he tilted his head, letting the flickering firelight dance across his face.
Hei nodded, still mesmerized by the night sky. "It is… so quiet here. No one judging, no one asking for anything. Just… this."
The Wanderer smiled faintly. "That's freedom. Out here, the world doesn't care who you are, what you own, or what you've achieved. You are nothing and everything at the same time."
Hei frowned. "Nothing and everything?"
"Think of it like this," the Wanderer said, tossing a small pebble into the fire. Sparks flew. "No one will tell you what to do. No one will name you, claim you, or expect things from you. You live only by your own choices. That can feel frightening… but it is also the purest kind of life."
Hei considered this. "So… the good life… could it be something like this?"
The Wanderer shook his head, almost laughing softly. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Out here, there are no rules, no labels, no measures of success. You can wander forever, never wealthy, never famous, never loved in the way people expect you to be… and yet, some might call that happiness."
Hei's eyes wandered over the dark silhouette of the mountains. "It sounds… lonely."
"Loneliness isn't the absence of others," the Wanderer said quietly. "It's the absence of knowing what your heart longs for. But sometimes, to find what you truly want, you must first feel what it means to have nothing to hold on to. Only then can you choose what to keep… and what to let go."
Hei was quiet for a while, letting the words settle.
The Wanderer's gaze shifted toward the distant valley below. "There's someone you should meet next. A farmer, living simply, but perhaps richer than anyone you'll ever know. He knows things you won't learn wandering alone. Go visit him, Hei… and see for yourself what happiness can be."
Hei nodded slowly, a strange mix of curiosity and anticipation filling him. "Thank you. I'll find him."
The Wanderer gave a faint smile, then returned his attention to the fire, as if he had never left it at all.