In the vast universe, the birth and death of a galaxy is just a momentary mottled streamer. Looking up at the starry sky, there is always a kind of sadness that the ending is doomed. Where are you and me after thousands of years?It is a speck of dust in the deep sky. The starry sky is fleeting, and the human world is thousands of years. The insects sing for a lifetime, but you and I are fighting for crossing. What is there at the end of the deep space?