Asking the sky how to know early is like love, and the sky is full of dreams about stars. Rejoicing is like crazy grass, falling asleep against the reflection of flowers. It is said that the sky breaks a boundary, which makes me sad and speechless. It is like a dream, like a dream, like a storm in the sky, and the water flows back to the court. Can the thousand-year curse be broken? Destiny arises, fate falls, or are we ultimately undestined?