Silver Ship, Sailing Towards Tomorrow

In the dark hibernation cabin, an immortal body wakes up like a dead leaf. In 3942, the earth has turned into a forgotten green scroll. The rusty laboratory was entangled by giant ferns into an ancient vine cemetery, and the afterimages of broken star rings hung in the sky, telling the sigh of human beings quietly withdrawing. Zhang Ling - the "ultimate creation" locked by errors in the data - opened his cold black pupils, breathing only oxygen and a poetic emptiness intertwined with desolation. He was originally the seed of extinction, but he woke up in an empty cradle. A silver spaceship floated from the depths of the jungle, and the AI's synthesized female voice echoed like ancient times: "Sir, I have been waiting for you for nine hundred years." So, the last shadow stepped onto the inclined ladder and said goodbye to the cradle that no longer belonged to him. Among the stars, on the way home or in the void, he is the only one chasing the silent migration. "The Shroud of the Stars" A starry elegy about forgotten creation, lost cradle, and eternal loneliness