Reverberation of Lament

They say the end of the world has not yet come. No mushroom clouds, no huge waves, no zombies running rampant. The world ended gently on a Wednesday afternoon. That day, a pale pink cloud floated in the sky, as beautiful as cherry blossoms blooming towards the sky. People stopped, took photos, and posted on WeChat Moments. The clouds are falling, as fine as dust and as light as a sigh. People inhaled it and - laughed. Zhangshan is the last unrecorded "cognitive induration" in this city with a population of 30 million. He is a mountain. The name was given by his father. When his son was born, an old-school geologist looked at the outline of distant mountains outside the window and said, "Just call it a mountain. It's enough that the mountain is there." The last part of the sentence that the father did not say was: The mountain does not go to anyone, so the mountain is always himself. His name is Zhang Shan.