I still like your beginning. How would you write a confession?

I still like you very much, like the wind has gone 800 miles, and I still like you regardless of the return date. I still like you, like the sun and the moon alternating, morning and evening, like a cloud floating in Wan Li for nine days, and I still like you, like a star hitting the earth until I die. I still like you very much, like the sunshine all over the sky, gentle and comfortable, like the wind blowing in my heart, crisp and decadent, like the rain falling in the tropics, decadent. Not far from Wan Li, I still like you very much, like a whale sinking at the bottom of the sea, breathing gently. I still like you, like the old city gate that has been waiting for many years. I still like you alone, like a whale lacking oxygen in the 6400-meter deep sea. Like a subject waiting for the restoration of the dynasty, I still like you in the foreseeable future, with willows moving and cicadas singing the sunset tide. I still like that you have no rest, like the rising and setting of the sun, I still like your every morning and night, like the stars running around for hundreds of millions of years, without complaining, like the spring rain falling 800 miles, like the spring grass dyeing the ridge green, there is no doubt that I still like you, like shrew, unreasonable, like it rained all night, and Juanjuan still likes me very much. I still like you for a long time, like smoke curling up from a kitchen stove, pears frying in the snow, falling in the rain, like a bird attached to marine fish, it is difficult to decide whether to stay or not. I don't know why I still like you, like a noisy secret. I still like you in a thousand words, like a begonia falling and blooming in the courtyard. I still like you again and again, like the alternation of the sun and the moon, morning and evening. I still like you like twinkling stars and neon blurred in the night sky, like laurel leaves falling in the wind, rolled into mud, like rain dripping on moss and red mud, dispersed softly, I still like you, like starlight falling into my eyes, I still like you when I look at Wan Li, like your last stroke, like a red account on a spring night, I still like you, and I am afraid to remember that I still like you. When I entered the Canal, I still liked you very much, like the clouds and showers in Cheng Jiao. I still like you, like the monk who has been wandering for too long, I still like you, like the green leaves in the spring and summer sunshine, I still like you, like the cliff rolling up thousands of piles of snow, and I still like you year after year, like meteors falling to the ground. I still like you as much as I can, like a fish returning to my hometown along the ocean current. I still like you when I meet unexpectedly, like whispering in one ear and one ear, still like you, like babbling children, still like you, like silent children, like whispering in the rain. I might as well go home. I still like you, just like a dream that I can't control myself. I don't know, so I still like you. I think you are like a river flowing through, and I still like you constantly. I like you, like a flattened cliff, to regenerate the whole forest. I still like you in the shade and the yellow flowers piled up all over the ground, so I still like you and my old friend Wan Li. I still like you, like the vicissitudes of life, I still like you. I still like you very much after I lost my voice, like a star running around for hundreds of millions of years, without complaint, like the old passbook drama in the old city, like Farewell My Concubine, I still like you very much, like a lonely star falling on the moon, and I am reluctant to give up. I still like you very much, like a quiet pear, drifting away with the wind. I still like you very much, like red beans, it is sick to be lovesick. I still like you very much, like Chun Yan cutting rain, regardless of wet clothes. I still like you very much, like a desert in thousands of feet. When nobody cares, I still like you. Like the rain falling on the lake, I still like you silently, like the wine hidden in the alley, which is hard to hide my heart, like the music in my heart and the horn of the palace merchants. I still like you very much, like the ancient Buddha in Shaolin Temple, and I don't want to cross it myself. I still like you very much, like a deer standing alone in the depths of the forest, afraid and expecting. I still like you very much, and my obsession is like drinking poison to quench my thirst. There is no cure for the medicine stone. I still like you very much, like rain falling from 70 thousand meters, not afraid of mud. I still like you very much, like the sunshine, and the spring breeze is ten miles. I still like you very much, like mulberries moving to the sea and oranges growing in the north, which is out of place. I still like you very much, like riding alone, surrounded by enemies. I still like you very much. When I was old, Du Ruo lost. I still like you very much, like burning hay, and the wind started again last night. I still like you very much, just like a hermit drinking a drunken sunset in Shan Lan, and his mood is like washing. I still like you, like a tree. I still like you very much, like falling into an endless nightmare and unable to wake up. I still like you very much, like sand falling into my eyes, like rain dripping. I still like you very much, like weeds everywhere year after year. I still like you very much, and I like Dapeng riding the wind and Wan Li. I still like you very much, and I like grinding and dyeing plain clothes. I still like you very much, like Jiuqing Shenglan, Tang Xin, Xicheng Yan Ge and Jin Lingfeng Xi. I still like you very much, like a reeling silkworm, regardless of life and death. I still like you, like the spring breeze, although not as good as you. I still like you very much, even in this life, I will never see you again.