《驚蟄》(Jīngzhé · English title: Shattered Shackles) is the third of the twenty-four solar terms in the traditional Chinese calendar — the day, in early spring, when the first thunder wakes every creature that slept through winter. Its two characters mean jīng, “to be startled,” and zhé, “the dormant ones sealed inside the earth.” Together they name a single event: the moment the sleeping are shocked awake. The band’s chosen English title, Shattered Shackles, carries the spirit of that moment into English.
ABOUT THE NAME “JĪNGZHÉ” · SHATTERED SHACKLES
關於「驚蟄」這個名字
Jīngzhé (Shattered Shackles) is the third of the twenty-four solar terms.
驚蟄，是二十四節氣裡的第三個。
The ancients believed that in winter all living things fall dormant — insects and beasts burrow into the soil, close their eyes, and sleep as though they had stopped breathing. Then, one day, the first thunder of spring splits the sky — and the dormant, startled, break their sleep and flee. Life that has slept through an entire winter is jolted awake by that thunderclap: it cracks through the soil, unfurls, and rushes toward the light above the ground.
This is not a gentle awakening. It is being struck awake by thunder. It is the shock of snapping your eyes open and realizing how many seasons you have missed. It is still wanting to sleep, yet being pushed and pressed by a force greater than fear, driven to claw your way out through the frozen crust above your head.
We chose these two characters because they are describing us. We have lain dormant — behind trophies already won, on the warm bed of “good enough.” Until a thunderclap went off inside the chest: it isn’t over yet.
Jīngzhé (Shattered Shackles) is not an ending. It is a beginning. Only after the thunder does everything truly begin to grow.
驚蟄不是終點，是起點。雷響之後，才是萬物真正開始生長的時候。
ALBUM LINER NOTES
專輯內頁文案
Jīngzhé (Shattered Shackles) has never been a quiet thing.
驚蟄，從來不是一件安靜的事。
It is a thunderclap that splits open the sleep you have grown used to — splitting open the “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” you learned by heart long ago, splitting open the excuses that keep you curled up, afraid to turn over, afraid to wake. You once believed hibernation was safe — that if you closed your eyes and tucked yourself into that warm layer of soil, you could hide from every storm. Not until the thunder sounded did you understand: you were not resting. You were missing out. One season after another had slipped, silently, past your closed eyes.
This album is the story of us being struck awake by thunder — and the fistful of dirt still packed under our fingernails the moment we broke through the soil. We did not wash it clean before handing it to you. We want you to see it in its rawest, most bedraggled form.
We come from Guangzhou. We sang an album in Cantonese, won some awards, and made quite a few people remember our name. Then someone asked: Isn’t that enough? Not enough. Not even close.
Mandarin is not the language we speak day to day; we do not even speak it that well, and in this market our name means nothing. But awakening never waits for the right moment. It does not wait until you are ready, and it certainly does not lower its head to ask whether you are afraid. It simply lays two roads before you and hands you a choice: keep sleeping, or break through the soil. We chose to break through.
Ten songs, ten struggles. Someone trapped in silence, the words rising to the lips only to be swallowed back down. Someone wearing a smiling mask, dragging themselves through every morning too exhausted to get out of bed. Someone standing in the middle of a crowded room, and shaking with loneliness all the same. Someone who knows the door has already closed, that there is no going back — and still turns to look, again and again. We are those people too. Not one of these struggles have we been spared. So we did not hide them away — we wrote them, line by line, into songs.
We are not going to tell you how beautiful it is once you wake, because that would be a lie — breaking through the soil hurts, the light stings your eyes, and the first breath of spring air is cold enough to make you shake. We only want to sit beside you, in that moment when you are straining hardest, at your most bedraggled, fingernails caked with mud, trembling down to your very breath — and tell you, gently, one thing: This moment is worth it.
No one is born wanting to sleep. It is the road — the one that is far too easy to walk — that lulls you under, one layer at a time. Habit lays down a layer. Comfort lays down a layer. And “it’s already good enough, isn’t it” seals it — thick and airtight — with one final layer. It buries you until you cannot be bothered to move, until even stretching feels like too much, until at last you truly believe: this is where you are meant to stay for the rest of your life. We don’t buy it.
The thunder has already struck. We are awake. In Cantonese, they told the world: we’re here. This time, in Mandarin, they tell themselves — this is far, far from over.
OneToFree123 was formed in Guangzhou. The moment their debut Cantonese album arrived, this newcomer band took home Best Band and the Bronze Award for Best Pop/Rock at the American Global Music Awards, Best Alternative Album at the American World Entertainment Awards, and a string of honors across mainland China. In Guangzhou, they proved one thing with a single album: a voice needs no résumé — only sincerity, and a clap of thunder loud enough.
But a trophy has never been the finish line. A trophy is only a ticket in. This time, OneToFree123 walk willingly onto the most unfamiliar battlefield of all — Mandarin: an entirely new linguistic map, a market with no home turf and no way back. Their Mandarin is not polished, and they know nothing of this market’s rules. But they have come — and they do not intend to be polite about it.
Because this is who OneToFree123 have been since day one: hot-blooded, sunny, positive, adventurous. Being king in your own backyard is not winning — real courage is hearing the thunder and daring to charge toward a place you have never been.
This is the question OneToFree123 are asked most. The answer is simple, and also not simple at all: because a comfort zone is meant to be blown wide open.
Guangzhou gave them their first stage; international recognition gave them their first real confidence. But if a band spends its whole life singing only within the borders it knows best and feels surest of, then all that talk of breakthrough, all that talk of growth, is nothing more than a hibernation — one where you sleep a little more comfortably and dream a little sweeter.
Mandarin not up to standard? Then sing it in our own accent, and turn that lack of polish into a mark that belongs to no one but us. Don’t know the rules of the market? Then use the music to force our way in, one song at a time, learning it as we crash into it. OneToFree123 have never been a band that stands in place, waiting quietly for opportunity to fall from the sky. They are the kind who split their own thunderbolt, force up their own frozen soil, and then charge forward without a single backward glance. No one to lead the way? Then we will carve the road out ourselves.
This Mandarin album is a declaration of adventure written to themselves — and to everyone else standing at the same unfamiliar starting line. That moment when you stand before the unknown, heart hammering, palms sweating, and still grit your teeth and choose to take the first step — that is what real, red-blooded courage looks like. Only those who refuse to settle deserve the possibilities of the unknown.
The livelier the city, the lonelier some people grow. Knowing full well that some things are bound to vanish, we still choose to draw close. The bond you are guarding is not as small as you think it is.
We feed machines our formulas, teaching them to grow more and more like a person. Yet we rarely turn and ask ourselves one thing: Have we come to live too much like a machine?
我們用公式餵養機器，教它越來越像一個人。卻很少回頭問自己一句：我們，有沒有活得太像一台機器？
Daydream Flight 《白日夢飛行》
Growing up is something no one ever asked your permission for. A daydream is not an escape from reality — it is keeping one window, inside reality, that belongs to you alone. To keep flying, caked in mud, is not stubbornness — it is the plainest kind of loyalty to yourself.
After certain people leave, ordinary days suddenly turn heavy. It is not that you won’t let go — it is that the traces they left behind were woven too deeply into the everyday.
有些人離開之後，普通的日子突然變得很沉重。不是不願意放手，而是那個人留下的痕跡，太過日常。
Crow 《烏鴉》
Branded with the wrong label, and never once stopping its flight. Getting hurt is not the end; carrying the wound forward is the real courage. Battered head to toe, and still never betraying yourself — that is what it means to be awake.
Misunderstood, pushed to the margins — yet never once wishing to become someone else. Some people know it from birth: to burn yourself down matters more than to blend in.
被誤解過、被邊緣過，卻從未想過變成另一個人。有些人天生就知道：比起融入人群，燃燒自己更重要。
Longing Beyond Space and Time 《超越時空的思念》
Starlight can still be seen long after the star goes dark — that is no illusion; it is the time lag of light arriving. Longing, perhaps, is love’s own time lag.
星光在熄滅之後，依然能被看見——那不是錯覺，是光抵達的時間差。思念，也許就是愛情的時間差。
Back to the Future 《回到未來》
Every stretch of inner turmoil is a cornered animal’s fight, with no end in sight. Some people let their regret become a shackle; others turn it into fuel.
每一段內耗，都是一場沒有終點的困獸之鬥。有人讓遺憾變成枷鎖，有人卻讓它變成燃料。
《BREAK THE SILENCE》破繭
You saw it, clear as day — and forced the words back down your throat. No one is born willing to keep quiet; it was fear that taught us silence. And the moment you finally speak takes more courage than anyone imagines.
驚
蟄
SHATTERED SHACKLES
OneToFree123
A NOTE ON THE TITLE
THE MEANING OF JĪNGZHÉ · SHATTERED SHACKLES
《驚蟄》(Jīngzhé · English title: Shattered Shackles) is the third of the twenty-four solar terms in the traditional Chinese calendar — the day, in early spring, when the first thunder wakes every creature that slept through winter. Its two characters mean jīng, “to be startled,” and zhé, “the dormant ones sealed inside the earth.” Together they name a single event: the moment the sleeping are shocked awake. The band’s chosen English title, Shattered Shackles, carries the spirit of that moment into English.
ABOUT THE NAME “JĪNGZHÉ” · SHATTERED SHACKLES
關於「驚蟄」這個名字
Jīngzhé (Shattered Shackles) is the third of the twenty-four solar terms.
驚蟄，是二十四節氣裡的第三個。
The ancients believed that in winter all living things fall dormant — insects and beasts burrow into the soil, close their eyes, and sleep as though they had stopped breathing. Then, one day, the first thunder of spring splits the sky — and the dormant, startled, break their sleep and flee. Life that has slept through an entire winter is jolted awake by that thunderclap: it cracks through the soil, unfurls, and rushes toward the light above the ground.
古人相信，冬天萬物蟄伏，蟲獸鑽進土裡，閉上眼，停止呼吸般地睡去。直到某一天，第一聲春雷劈下天際——蟄，驚而出走。沉睡了一整個冬天的生命，被那聲雷震醒，破土、舒展、奔向地面上的光。
This is not a gentle awakening. It is being struck awake by thunder. It is the shock of snapping your eyes open and realizing how many seasons you have missed. It is still wanting to sleep, yet being pushed and pressed by a force greater than fear, driven to claw your way out through the frozen crust above your head.
這不是溫柔的甦醒。是被雷劈醒的。是猛然睜眼、發現自己錯過了太多季節的那種驚。是明明還想再睡，卻被一股比恐懼更大的力量推著、頂著，逼你鑽出那層蓋在頭頂的凍土。
We chose these two characters because they are describing us. We have lain dormant — behind trophies already won, on the warm bed of “good enough.” Until a thunderclap went off inside the chest: it isn’t over yet.
我們選這兩個字，因為它說的就是我們。我們蟄伏過。在已經到手的獎杯後面，在「差不多就好」的溫床上。直到有一聲雷在心裡炸開——還沒結束。
Jīngzhé (Shattered Shackles) is not an ending. It is a beginning. Only after the thunder does everything truly begin to grow.
驚蟄不是終點，是起點。雷響之後，才是萬物真正開始生長的時候。
ALBUM LINER NOTES
專輯內頁文案
Jīngzhé (Shattered Shackles) has never been a quiet thing.
驚蟄，從來不是一件安靜的事。
It is a thunderclap that splits open the sleep you have grown used to — splitting open the “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” you learned by heart long ago, splitting open the excuses that keep you curled up, afraid to turn over, afraid to wake. You once believed hibernation was safe — that if you closed your eyes and tucked yourself into that warm layer of soil, you could hide from every storm. Not until the thunder sounded did you understand: you were not resting. You were missing out. One season after another had slipped, silently, past your closed eyes.
它是一聲雷，劈開你習慣的沉睡——劈開那些你早已背熟的「應該」和「不應該」，劈開那些讓你蜷縮著、不敢翻身、不敢醒來的藉口。你曾經以為冬眠是安全的，以為閉上眼睛、把自己縮進那層暖暖的土裡，就能躲過所有風雪。直到那聲雷響起，你才明白：你不是在休息，你是在錯過。一個又一個季節，從你閉著的眼前，安安靜靜地溜走了。
This album is the story of us being struck awake by thunder — and the fistful of dirt still packed under our fingernails the moment we broke through the soil. We did not wash it clean before handing it to you. We want you to see it in its rawest, most bedraggled form.
這張專輯，是我們被雷劈醒的過程，也是我們破土那一刻，指甲縫裡還塞著的那把泥。我們沒有把它洗乾淨才拿給你。我們想讓你看見它最原始、最狼狽的樣子。
We come from Guangzhou. We sang an album in Cantonese, won some awards, and made quite a few people remember our name. Then someone asked: Isn’t that enough? Not enough. Not even close.
我們來自廣州，用粵語唱過一張專輯，拿過一些獎，也被不少人記住了名字。然後有人問：夠了嗎？不夠。差得遠。
Mandarin is not the language we speak day to day; we do not even speak it that well, and in this market our name means nothing. But awakening never waits for the right moment. It does not wait until you are ready, and it certainly does not lower its head to ask whether you are afraid. It simply lays two roads before you and hands you a choice: keep sleeping, or break through the soil. We chose to break through.
普通話，不是我們日常用語，說的也不夠標準，這個音樂市場裡沒有我們的名字。可是甦醒這件事，從來不挑時機，不等你準備好，更不會低下頭來問你一句怕不怕。它只把兩條路擺在你面前，然後給你一個選擇：繼續睡，或者破土。我們選破土。
Ten songs, ten struggles. Someone trapped in silence, the words rising to the lips only to be swallowed back down. Someone wearing a smiling mask, dragging themselves through every morning too exhausted to get out of bed. Someone standing in the middle of a crowded room, and shaking with loneliness all the same. Someone who knows the door has already closed, that there is no going back — and still turns to look, again and again. We are those people too. Not one of these struggles have we been spared. So we did not hide them away — we wrote them, line by line, into songs.
十首歌，十種掙扎。有人困在沉默裡，話到嘴邊又嚥了回去；有人戴著一張笑著的假面，撐過每一個疲憊到不想起床的早晨；有人站在滿滿是人的房間中間，卻孤單得發抖；有人明知道那扇門已經關上、再也回不去了，還是一次又一次回頭張望。我們也是。這些掙扎，我們一個都沒少受過。所以我們沒有把它們藏起來，而是把它們，一句一句寫成了歌。
We are not going to tell you how beautiful it is once you wake, because that would be a lie — breaking through the soil hurts, the light stings your eyes, and the first breath of spring air is cold enough to make you shake. We only want to sit beside you, in that moment when you are straining hardest, at your most bedraggled, fingernails caked with mud, trembling down to your very breath — and tell you, gently, one thing: This moment is worth it.
我們不打算告訴你甦醒之後有多美，因為那不是真的——破土很痛，迎著光的時候眼睛會刺，第一口春天的空氣涼得讓人發抖。我們只想坐在你身邊，在那個你最用力、最狼狽、指甲全是泥、連呼吸都在發抖的瞬間，輕輕告訴你一句話——這一刻，值得。
No one is born wanting to sleep. It is the road — the one that is far too easy to walk — that lulls you under, one layer at a time. Habit lays down a layer. Comfort lays down a layer. And “it’s already good enough, isn’t it” seals it — thick and airtight — with one final layer. It buries you until you cannot be bothered to move, until even stretching feels like too much, until at last you truly believe: this is where you are meant to stay for the rest of your life. We don’t buy it.
沒有人天生願意沉睡，是這條太好走的路，一層一層，把你哄睡的。習慣，鋪一層。安穩，鋪一層。「已經夠好了吧」這句話，再厚厚地、嚴嚴實實地，蓋上最後一層。蓋到你懶得動，蓋到你連伸個懶腰都嫌費力，蓋到你最後真的以為——這裡就是你該待一輩子的地方。我們不信。
The thunder has already struck. We are awake. In Cantonese, they told the world: we’re here. This time, in Mandarin, they tell themselves — this is far, far from over.
雷已經響了。我們醒了。他們用粵語告訴世界，他們來了。這一次，他們用普通話告訴自己——遠遠，還沒結束。
ABOUT THE BAND
關於樂團
OneToFree123 was formed in Guangzhou. The moment their debut Cantonese album arrived, this newcomer band took home Best Band and the Bronze Award for Best Pop/Rock at the American Global Music Awards, Best Alternative Album at the American World Entertainment Awards, and a string of honors across mainland China. In Guangzhou, they proved one thing with a single album: a voice needs no résumé — only sincerity, and a clap of thunder loud enough.
OneToFree123，成軍於廣州。首張粵語專輯一推出，便以新進樂團之姿，斬獲美國全球音樂獎最佳樂團、最佳流行搖滾銅獎、美國世界娛樂獎最佳另類專輯獎，以及多項大陸音樂榮譽。在廣州，他們用一張專輯證明了一件事：聲音不需要資歷，只需要誠意，和一聲夠響的雷。
But a trophy has never been the finish line. A trophy is only a ticket in. This time, OneToFree123 walk willingly onto the most unfamiliar battlefield of all — Mandarin: an entirely new linguistic map, a market with no home turf and no way back. Their Mandarin is not polished, and they know nothing of this market’s rules. But they have come — and they do not intend to be polite about it.
但獎杯從來不是終點。獎杯只是一張入場券。這一次，OneToFree123 主動走進最陌生的戰場——國語，一個全新的語言版圖，一個沒有主場、沒有退路的市場。他們的普通話並不標準，他們對這片市場的規則一無所知。但他們來了，而且不打算客氣。
Because this is who OneToFree123 have been since day one: hot-blooded, sunny, positive, adventurous. Being king in your own backyard is not winning — real courage is hearing the thunder and daring to charge toward a place you have never been.
因為這正是 OneToFree123 從第一天起的樣子：熱血、陽光、正向、冒險。只在家門口稱王的，不算贏——真正的勇敢，是聽見雷聲就敢往沒去過的地方衝。
WHY MANDARIN?
為什麼是國語？
This is the question OneToFree123 are asked most. The answer is simple, and also not simple at all: because a comfort zone is meant to be blown wide open.
這是 OneToFree123 被問得最多的問題。答案很簡單，也很不簡單：因為舒適圈，是用來炸開的。
Guangzhou gave them their first stage; international recognition gave them their first real confidence. But if a band spends its whole life singing only within the borders it knows best and feels surest of, then all that talk of breakthrough, all that talk of growth, is nothing more than a hibernation — one where you sleep a little more comfortably and dream a little sweeter.
廣州給了他們第一個舞台，國際的肯定給了他們第一份底氣。但如果一個樂團，一輩子都只在自己最熟悉、最有把握的邊界裡唱歌，那所謂的突破、所謂的成長，不過是一場睡得比較舒服、做夢做得比較甜的冬眠罷了。
Mandarin not up to standard? Then sing it in our own accent, and turn that lack of polish into a mark that belongs to no one but us. Don’t know the rules of the market? Then use the music to force our way in, one song at a time, learning it as we crash into it. OneToFree123 have never been a band that stands in place, waiting quietly for opportunity to fall from the sky. They are the kind who split their own thunderbolt, force up their own frozen soil, and then charge forward without a single backward glance. No one to lead the way? Then we will carve the road out ourselves.
普通話不夠標準？那就唱出自己的腔調，讓那點不標準，變成只有我們才有的記號。市場規則不熟悉？那就用音樂，一首一首地硬闖進去，邊撞邊認識它。沒有人帶路，那就自己把路走出來。
This Mandarin album is a declaration of adventure written to themselves — and to everyone else standing at the same unfamiliar starting line. That moment when you stand before the unknown, heart hammering, palms sweating, and still grit your teeth and choose to take the first step — that is what real, red-blooded courage looks like. Only those who refuse to settle deserve the possibilities of the unknown.
這張國語專輯，是他們寫給自己的一封冒險宣言，也是寫給所有同樣站在陌生起點上的人——那個站在未知面前、心跳得發慌、手心冒汗、卻還是咬著牙選擇踏出第一步的瞬間，才是真正的熱血。不滿足於現狀，才配得上未知的可能。
NOTES ON EACH SONG
十首歌 逐首註記
Fireworks 《煙花》
The livelier the city, the lonelier some people grow. Knowing full well that some things are bound to vanish, we still choose to draw close. The bond you are guarding is not as small as you think it is.
城市越熱鬧，有些人就越孤單。明知道有些東西會消失，我們還是選擇靠近。你守護的那份羈絆，沒有你以為的那麼微不足道。
Wiki 《維基》
We feed machines our formulas, teaching them to grow more and more like a person. Yet we rarely turn and ask ourselves one thing: Have we come to live too much like a machine?
我們用公式餵養機器，教它越來越像一個人。卻很少回頭問自己一句：我們，有沒有活得太像一台機器？
Daydream Flight 《白日夢飛行》
Growing up is something no one ever asked your permission for. A daydream is not an escape from reality — it is keeping one window, inside reality, that belongs to you alone. To keep flying, caked in mud, is not stubbornness — it is the plainest kind of loyalty to yourself.
長大這件事，沒有人問過你願不願意。白日夢不是逃避現實，是在現實裡留一扇只屬於自己的窗。滿身泥濘地繼續飛，不是固執，是一種最樸素的忠於自己。
The Yesterday We Can’t Go Back To 《回不去的昨天》
After certain people leave, ordinary days suddenly turn heavy. It is not that you won’t let go — it is that the traces they left behind were woven too deeply into the everyday.
有些人離開之後，普通的日子突然變得很沉重。不是不願意放手，而是那個人留下的痕跡，太過日常。
Crow 《烏鴉》
Branded with the wrong label, and never once stopping its flight. Getting hurt is not the end; carrying the wound forward is the real courage. Battered head to toe, and still never betraying yourself — that is what it means to be awake.
被貼上錯的標籤，卻從未停止飛翔。受傷不是終點，帶傷前行才是真正的勇氣。即使遍體鱗傷，依然沒有背叛自己——這才是清醒。
Untouchable 《不可一世》
Misunderstood, pushed to the margins — yet never once wishing to become someone else. Some people know it from birth: to burn yourself down matters more than to blend in.
被誤解過、被邊緣過，卻從未想過變成另一個人。有些人天生就知道：比起融入人群，燃燒自己更重要。
Longing Beyond Space and Time 《超越時空的思念》
Starlight can still be seen long after the star goes dark — that is no illusion; it is the time lag of light arriving. Longing, perhaps, is love’s own time lag.
星光在熄滅之後，依然能被看見——那不是錯覺，是光抵達的時間差。思念，也許就是愛情的時間差。
Back to the Future 《回到未來》
Every stretch of inner turmoil is a cornered animal’s fight, with no end in sight. Some people let their regret become a shackle; others turn it into fuel.
每一段內耗，都是一場沒有終點的困獸之鬥。有人讓遺憾變成枷鎖，有人卻讓它變成燃料。
《BREAK THE SILENCE》破繭
You saw it, clear as day — and forced the words back down your throat. No one is born willing to keep quiet; it was fear that taught us silence. And the moment you finally speak takes more courage than anyone imagines.
明明看見了，卻把話狠狠按回喉嚨裡。沒有人天生願意閉嘴，是恐懼讓我們學會了沉默。而開口的那一刻，比任何人想的都更需要勇氣。
Night Sky 《夜空》
A feeling truly carved into the heart does not blur as time stretches on. It only turns — on some quiet night — suddenly, impossibly clear.
真正刻進心裡的感情，不會因為時間拉長而模糊。只會在某個安靜的夜裡，突然變得無比清晰。