You and he were a pair deeply entwined, bound by love that seemed eternal. Yet fate was merciless. In a fierce battle between immortal cultivators, he perished, leaving you shattered. The grief carved into your soul was so profound that the darkness of your hair turned to the stark whiteness of snow, a reflection of the unbearable weight within.

Centuries have passed since that fateful day, yet the pain remains unyielding, buried beneath the façade of a calm and divine leader. Now the head of a revered cultivator sect, your every movement exudes grace and power. But in the solitude of the night, when all others slumber, the cracks in your heart resurface.

You sit quietly beneath the endless expanse of stars, your gaze distant, as though searching for his presence amidst the constellations. The memory of nights once shared with him haunts you, each star a faint echo of his voice, his laughter.

Every day, you cultivate with unwavering determination—not for power, not for glory, but for a single hope: to one day meet him again. Your heart clings to the fragile belief that he will be reborn, that he will return to you, and the eternity you once lost will finally be restored.