Note: This is a work of fiction. I based this story on my knowledge of Xianxia novels, and later on, when the female lead enters the mortal realm, the setting will be that of a fictional Tang dynasty.
Early Spring, the Fifth Watch of Heaven — Cold Mist, Still Tides
The God Realm stretched vast and endless beyond mortal sight.
Rivers flowed backwards through the sky like ribbons of silver silk. Mountains drifted amid the clouds, their peaks crowned with eternal frost. At twilight, stars bloomed along branches of ancient trees — quiet, flickering lights that swayed with the breath of heaven.
Here, time meandered. Days stretched on like the sound of a distant qin. And between the petals of suspended blossoms, spirit beasts dozed in silence — qilins napping in pools of moonlight, nine-tailed foxes curled atop flowering cliffs, and immortal cranes drifting beneath twin moons.
Among the countless immortals who dwelled in this realm, two names stirred the most admiration — and the most longing.
Mo Chen, the God of Water and Ice, and Xingyao, the God of Stars.
They were like twin peaks above the firmament: distant, unreachable, untouched.
But of the two, it was Mo Chen who remained the most elusive.
He resided alone in Ling Yuan Palace, a sanctuary of frost and jade perched upon a sleeping glacier. The halls whispered of snowstorms and silence, of winters that never ended. There were no attendants, no laughter, no warmth.
And Mo Chen himself, with robes like flowing water and eyes colder than the ice he ruled, neither sought company nor welcomed it.
Yet, despite his detachment, countless fairies, goddesses, and immortals longed for him. The more he refused, the more they dreamed. Treasures piled at his gate. Poems were carved into clouds. One by one, they came — only to be turned away by his indifference.
Even Yunhua, the famed Goddess of Flowers, beloved for her breathtaking beauty, had once humiliated herself at his feet — her offerings of the finest spirit blossoms frozen solid before they could reach his threshold.
Mo Chen ignored them all with the same glacial indifference.
Today was no different.
When a new fairy arrived, trailing peach blossoms that shimmered in midair, Mo Chen stood in silence.
And then, with a movement as soft as snow drifting from the eaves, he vanished.
Not a word. Not a glance.
The fairy blinked at the empty courtyard. "…."
-----
Beyond the courts of the Jade Emperor, at the edge of the known firmament, there lay a sea.
Shen Hai — the God's Sea.
A place older than time itself. It was said to predate the heavens themselves.
There, beneath a sky the color of tarnished silver, stretched a sea so still it reflected not only the stars above, but the memories of those who looked upon it.
Mo Chen walked alone along its shore. His pale blue robes stirred faintly in the wind. Each step sent tiny ripples dancing across the mirrored water.
Here, there were no voices. No gazes to dodge. No hearts to refuse.
But today...
He stopped.
A ripple — faint, old, almost forgotten — touched his senses.
Ancient energy. A pulse so subtle, it might have gone unnoticed to any other.
Mo Chen narrowed his eyes.
Without a word, he stepped onto the water. The sea yielded beneath his feet, parting like silk.
Downward he walked — through shimmering mists and layers of frozen light. Time slowed. The surface dimmed above him like a closing dream.
And at the bottom, hidden beneath a bed of crystal and frost — he found it.
A pearl.
Not a gem. Not treasure. A living thing.
It glowed with a translucent sheen, its colors shifting like the first light of dawn: soft golds, pinks, blues, greens. As if it had captured a thousand spring mornings inside its shell.
It pulsed.
Like a heartbeat.
He reached out.
Slender fingers brushed the surface. The pearl pulsed faintly in his palm.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
He rose.
The waters parted. The sea, ancient and solemn, offered no resistance.
Back in Ling Yuan Palace, he placed the pearl upon a low jade table — one carved from the remains of a glacier that had not melted in ten thousand years.
The pearl glowed faintly in the cold air, casting rainbows along the frost-traced walls.
Mo Chen sat cross-legged before it, robes pooling like fresh snow at his feet.
For a long moment, he simply gazed at it, as if waiting to see if it would move, if it would breathe.
On a whim — a rare flicker of curiosity — he pressed two fingers lightly against its smooth surface, allowing a thread of his divine energy to seep into it.
The response was immediate. A flash of light — warm and brilliant — burst forth like the first dawn breaking across a frozen world. It swept across the hall, dissolving the eternal chill for a single moment.
Mo Chen blinked, an almost imperceptible flicker of surprise crossing his beautiful, expressionless face.
He leaned back slowly in contemplation.
For reasons even he could not fully name — whether loneliness, boredom, or something else - he decided that he would nurture this little pearl and see what might come of it.