It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 1

The day she met Pei Suye, the weather was perfect.

The sky was a clean, vivid blue, with no clouds in sight. The air carried the faint fragrance of jasmine, as refreshing as sparkling water.

That day was the grand opening ceremony for the freshmen. Thousands of students filled the gymnasium with youthful energy. Through the small backstage door, guest speakers occasionally passed. Standing by the doorway, one side was the lively, bustling ceremony; the other, a long, quiet hallway that led to the guests’ lounge.

Her body stood exactly at the boundary of the two worlds—noise and silence, light and shadow.

Pei Suye came walking down that quiet, dim hallway, stepping into the sunlit avenue.

The light slanted across the venue, softening her face like a painting, only to be pierced by the tiny red mole on the bridge of her nose. The contours sculpted by the light became etched into memory, and whenever recalled, it was always that vermilion beauty mark.

One glance, and it lasted a lifetime.

September’s blazing sun was like an oven with heated iron coils, scorching the ground until steam rose. The soles of their camouflage shoes felt like they were pressed against burning iron plates, making their feet go numb.

Day one of military training: standing at attention.
Day two of military training: standing at attention.
Day three of military training: standing at attention.

All the freshmen of Nanzhou University were lined up on the field in camouflage formations, arms at their sides, eyes fixed forward, enduring their very first trial in the ivory tower.

In front of the women’s formation of the College of Veterinary Medicine, the instructor faced the students, standing tall. His sharp brows angled downward under the brim of his cap, his gaze under the blazing sun as sharp as a vulture’s.

“Standing posture reflects the spirit and strength of a soldier!”

His vulture-like eyes swept through the formation as his thunderous voice reverberated:

“Chin up, chest out! Feet rooted to the ground like tree roots! Hands glued to your thighs! Eyes fixed forward! No moving, no fidgeting!”

The formation was arranged by height, and at the very front of the first row stood one of the tallest—168 cm, freshman of the veterinary college, Ye Wanjia.

Strictly speaking, 168 wasn’t especially tall. But for some reason, this year’s freshmen seemed generally short, so she ended up at the very front.

Conspicuous.

“You, first row, first one! Step out!”

The sharp gaze shot toward her like a blade. His booming voice startled Ye Wanjia into a shiver, and she had no choice but to step forward.

The instructor was young, but his bearing carried undeniable authority. He turned toward her and demanded, “What were you just doing?”

Since she was caught, Ye Wanjia didn’t hide it and confessed honestly: “Report, Instructor! I just adjusted my hair.”

A breeze had tickled her neck earlier, and thinking it was an insect’s antenna, she’d quickly tucked her stray hair back in place. She thought she was fast enough when the instructor’s attention was elsewhere, but clearly, not fast enough.

Her honesty softened his tone slightly, though the rules still stood:

“Ten squats.”

A chorus of sympathetic sighs rose from the girls.

“Ah…”

She had already done fifty squats today.

But one glare from the instructor silenced them instantly. Meanwhile, Ye Wanjia had already begun her squats—without complaint, without excuses, without slacking. Her only logic: her neck itched, so she scratched. She was caught, so she accepted the punishment.

“Good. Return to formation.”

The instructor, somewhat satisfied, glanced at the big clock on the nearby teaching building and moved to the next announcement:

“Listen up! This afternoon is the opening ceremony. All students will attend in the gymnasium. Indoors, no sun, with air conditioning—but one rule: when the leaders are speaking, no one is allowed to move. If anyone moves, everyone will do ten squats after!”

The words squats and push-ups had already become trauma-inducing to the students. Silently, everyone swore that, for the sake of air conditioning, they would not move a single muscle.

The South Campus gym of Nanzhou University was newly built over the summer, able to hold eight thousand people. Each college entered in tidy lines through twelve entrances, and within twenty minutes, everyone was seated.

As for Ye Wanjia, freshly punished with squats, the instructor assigned her to stand guard at Gate A1.

She didn’t really understand what standing guard meant, and even less that it was usually just an excuse to slack off away from the instructors’ eyes. Taking it at face value, she assumed it was still “no moving allowed,” so she stood ramrod straight by the doorway, military posture perfect.

The location was peculiar. One side opened into the lively, noisy gym. The other side stretched into a silent, dim hallway. At the far end was the lounge where the hosts and speakers waited. To avoid disrupting the stage, no lights were turned on in the hallway.

Noise and silence. Brightness and shadow. Standing on that border, Ye Wanjia felt like some kind of grim reaper guarding the souls of the underworld.

Two minutes later, the ceremony began. Obediently standing by the doorframe, she lifted her head to glance at the big screen.

“Hey… hey…”

Her posture was flawless until a deliberately frail figure approached from the hallway—it was her roommate, Wei Xiaoxiao.

“Ye Wanjia?!” The moment she saw her, Wei Xiaoxiao dropped the act. “Why are you here too?”

Ye Wanjia answered truthfully, “Instructor said I’m tall and tend to move, so I’d get noticed by the chief instructor. So he put me here.”

Wei Xiaoxiao was dumbfounded. “Just… just that?”

“Yes.”

“No other reason?”

“No.”

After a few rounds of questioning, Ye Wanjia finally realized something was off and asked, “Then how did you get here?”

Wei Xiaoxiao admitted, “I told the instructor I got my period, and that I had a brain tumor, so I’d faint if I stood too long. He didn’t buy it at first, so I added that mental illness runs in my family.”

For a moment, Ye Wanjia thought she’d misheard. After all, those were excuses American TV heroines used to skip class. “And… he agreed?”

“Of course! If he hadn’t, I was ready to say I’d had an abortion!”

Clearly, Wei Xiaoxiao’s imagination and her nonsense-spinning skills were unmatched. She dragged a chair over and sat down, then frowned at Ye Wanjia’s stiff posture, suggesting:

“Why don’t you sit too? No instructors around. Honestly, standing guard at the ceremony is just for show. They usually pick the obedient ones to let them rest. Why do you think I fought so hard to come here?”

Just then, footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Tap… tap…

The sound of leather shoes. Not the sharp click of high heels, but the crisp rhythm of flat soles, like spring raindrops on a lake.

Wei Xiaoxiao shot to her feet, chest out, stomach in, gaze fixed dramatically at a forty-five degree angle.

Ye Wanjia, however, turned her head. She wanted to see who belonged to those light, graceful footsteps.

The woman was tall, but unlike her own lanky thinness, this was a lean and balanced figure. Her bright eyes revealed she was a student, but clearly not a clueless freshman. She wore a simple, knee-length, sky-blue dress cinched with a leather belt, and over it, a crisp white lab coat. The fit was perfect, every seam pressed flat.

Dignified.

That was Ye Wanjia’s first impression.

The woman stopped at the door, her lips curved in a smile. “Are you freshmen from the veterinary college?”

Ye Wanjia froze for a second, then nodded—she had no defense against such a gentle, spring-water voice.

Wei Xiaoxiao answered quickly, “Yes! We’re both vet college freshmen, even roommates! Luck must be on our dorm—we both got picked to stand guard.”

The woman only smiled, then advised, “There’s no one else here. You can go rest.”

Wei Xiaoxiao waved it off with a grin. “Ah, no need! Honestly, senior, you don’t know—being in here with air conditioning is already way better than training outside in the sun—”

She hadn’t finished when Ye Wanjia solemnly cut in:

“Serve the people.”

Wei Xiaoxiao: “…”

The woman in the lab coat lifted her brows, something like interest flickering in her expression. Yet on her face, it naturally transformed into calm composure.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Ye Wanjia.”

At this point, Ye Wanjia had no idea who she was speaking to. She only thought she was beautiful, with a graceful presence. Her gaze couldn’t help but linger on the tiny vermilion mole on the bridge of her nose, and she found herself asking:

“And you, Senior?”

The woman’s lips parted to reply, but before she could—

The host’s voice rang out from the speakers:

“Now, please welcome the President of the Veterinary College Student Council, Pei Suye, to give her speech.”

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