I still really like you, like the wind that has traveled eight thousand miles without asking when it will return.
Like the romantic floral rain at Yantai University, year after year without fail.
Like the bustling Nan Dajie when the neon lights first come on.
Like the sunset tides at Moon Bay, which are utterly immersive.
Like the Yantai Mountain Lighthouse, waiting for old friends for years without fearing solitude.
Like a gentle and cozy stroll down Guangren Road in the afternoon.
Like the romantic and picturesque Tianma Love Pier, indifferent to the passage of time.
Like the colorful walls of Suochengli, standing silently.
Like the cicadas at Nanshan Park, singing year after year without ever tiring.
Like the old photos in the Changyu Wine Culture Museum, forever etched in my heart.
Like a poetic stroll along the fishing harbor with its exotic charm.
Like the Penglai noodles from the eatery downstairs, unforgettable.
Like the Chunfeng Cinema, witness to many love stories in Yantai, now a memory of its former glory.
Like the grilled squid at Fushan’s ... (incomplete segment, please provide full text)
Like the evening glow gently brushing against Yangma Island Bridge, its charm impossible to hide.
Like Yantai’s streets under a layer of advection fog, intricate and mysterious.
Like the coastal square on an early winter morning, dusted with lingering snow.
Like clouds chasing the wind, with no known origin.
Like Yantai apples and Laiyang pears, both highly renowned.
Yantai at dusk is half serene and tranquil, half bursting with vitality.
Until one day, when I temporarily leave this place, I realize that perhaps I may never meet you again — like a train that must eventually leave the station, leaving behind only the platform that stirs memories. You recall everything about this place more vividly than any mountains or rivers you've seen or loved. And that will be the day of your return.
I don’t know why I like you so much.
If I could do it all over again
I would still choose you — Yantai.