Already out of the city, the sky is still gray. Trees passed by quickly, like scenes in a black-and-white movie. The distant mountains are blue-grey, and I wonder if they also have beautiful names. On the way back to his hometown, my father pointed to a mountain on the side of the road and said that this mountain was Xiaowu Mountain. What a beautiful name. I couldn't help but look over and found that it was just an ordinary mountain. I was slightly disappointed. But he quickly looked up a few more times. When spring comes next year and the flowers bloom, I wonder what Xiaowu Mountain will look like.