It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 101

That day was destined to be a sleepless night—for everyone.

When the perspectives of two generations clash head-on, even in the name of love, it can all boil down to resentment.

Distant memories were stirred. At times, she recalled her childhood: everyone had beautiful dresses, and she wanted one too. But her family couldn’t afford it, so her mother bought colored threads and embroidered little red flowers on all her clothes, so she could wear something new every day.

At other times, she remembered middle school, when she was suspected of stealing class funds. Her usually reserved mother had knocked on the principal’s office door and spoke fiercely: “We are poor, but our child has high aspirations and would never do such petty things!”

Over the years, her mother had raised her as her own child, and Ye Wanjia had regarded her in the same way.

After checking into the hotel, Pei Suye ordered a KFC meal, but even placing Ye Wanjia’s favorite original recipe chicken in front of her couldn’t lift her spirits.

“You eat, I’m not hungry.”

She sat on the bay window, looking at the bus stop across the street, her thick lashes dampened by tears, drying into tiny round fans.

Pei Suye put down the paper bag, untouched. Feeling the icy chill of her arms wrapped around her knees, she raised the air conditioning by two degrees, sat beside her, and held her cold hands in her own.

Having been together for so long, she knew Ye Wanjia had grown up surrounded by her parents’ love. Because of this understanding, facing her mother’s questioning was something Ye Wanjia could not handle calmly.

“Don’t worry too much.”

The gentle words brushed against her ear, the tone soothing.

“Uncle must be trying to persuade Aunt to eat—after all, there’s so much food. Didn’t you say she’s the most frugal? If she doesn’t eat, it will go bad. Just thinking like this, she’ll probably eat a few bites.”

Ye Wanjia sniffled, stiffened slightly, turned, and nestled into Pei Suye’s embrace. After a long time, she opened the treasure chest of her childhood memories and whispered:

“My mom can’t keep things to herself.”

Her voice was muffled, heavy, even hoarse from a sore throat, but Pei Suye patiently listened.

Ye Wanjia slowly began:

“When I was little, I was quite mischievous. I practiced gymnastics and spent every day spinning on the monkey bars at school. One day, the bar broke, and I fell. Maybe I had some skills, because I wasn’t seriously hurt—just a sprained ankle and a small bump on my head.”

“When I got home, afraid of being scolded, I lied, saying I fell while going downstairs… My mom immediately saw through it. She thought I had been bullied at school and was too afraid to tell anyone. Later, when my foot healed, she would go to school every day, peering over the fence, watching the classroom door to make sure no one was bullying me.”

“My classmates recognized her and asked if she was Ye Wanjia’s mother. She shook her head. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because by then, she was already severely ill with uremia. She could barely walk and limped. She was afraid my classmates would see her and laugh at me for having a disabled mother, and that I would be bullied at school.”

The person in her arms began to sob. Pei Suye empathized, her own tears glistening as they slid down her face, tightening her arms, holding Ye Wanjia as if to fold her into her very bones.

“…” Ye Wanjia whispered, realizing her own voice had grown hoarse.

She burst into tears: “She was always afraid of burdening me. She was so careful, worried I’d be bullied, worried I’d be poor, worried I’d be held back… But I… I made her so sad…”

Pei Suye held her tighter, feeling the delicate butterfly bones under her palms, choking up as she said:

“This isn’t your fault. No one was at fault here.”

Ye Wanjia couldn’t accept it: “It is my fault! I’ve wronged her, and I’ve wronged you. I’ve hurt the two people who love me most!”

At that moment, Ye Wanjia was utterly broken. The sudden rebuke from her family, combined with guilt over not coming out sooner, was terrifying. She didn’t know how to make things better.

Should she have come out earlier? Looking at the situation now, yes. But how early counts as early? When she and Pei Suye were together? After they went abroad? Her mother’s illness was serious—what if she hadn’t properly done dialysis or taken medication, making her ineligible for a kidney transplant?

But should she have kept it secret? Judging from the circumstances, perhaps she should have. Waiting until her mother recovered from the transplant, then telling her. But that meant that for the next two years, every conversation about love would require endless lies. Pei Suye would always have to play the role of “just a senior I know,” as they lived a facade of normality.

Moving forward was impossible; retreating wasn’t an option either.

Ye Wanjia began to hate herself for being attracted to women. If she and Pei Suye were a normal couple, tonight would have been a family celebration. Parents would have evaluated the son-in-law’s looks, height, job, and character, and finally confidently handed over their daughter.

Why did it have to be her and Pei Suye enduring all this?

It was as if, despite the vast sky and endless stars, they could only huddle under a single leaf, enduring the pouring rain.

In the storm, Pei Suye spoke softly, like a feather landing on her wounded heart:

“Coming out was hard for me too.”

Her words drifted into Ye Wanjia’s ears, and she paused, lifting her gaze to Pei Suye’s tearful eyes, shifting in her embrace, changing roles from the embraced to the embracer.

“And then?” she asked, sharing the feeling of mutual understanding.

Pei Suye continued:

“My parents asked if their divorce caused me to fear love and marriage—just like your uncle and aunt. My mom was also in poor health, and after that day, she stayed in the hospital for half a month.”

The gentle voice settled over the carpet like music from a music box, notes floating into the clouds and resting on the Milky Way.

“Then I told them. I like girls, naturally, like rain falling from the sky. I feel drawn to a girl, I’m inspired to write poems, I imagine a future together, just like any feelings I could have for a boy.”

“I told my mom about which girls are lesbians. Whether it’s an award-winning actress like Qu Tang or a billionaire like Huo Yan, these outstanding women like women too… She learned about it, started trying to understand, bought psychology books, bought published yuri novels. Gradually, she accepted it.”

At that time, Su Hongyue sent Pei Suye a text from the dorm:

“Romance between girls is beautiful. Your mother hopes that one day you’ll meet someone who makes your heart flutter and enjoy a beautiful love together.”

No parent can calmly accept their child’s same-sex attraction. What’s precious is that, after initial turbulence, there is rare respect and blessing.

And the first step toward blessing is attempting to understand, dispelling ignorance and prejudice.

One story after another floated in the hotel room, over time solidifying into seeds, taking root, sprouting, and blooming.

Meanwhile, in a countryside house at the foot of the mountain, Chen Meijuan took out the smartphone Ye Wanjia had bought her and had been reluctant to use.

“Hua-ge, help me search: what is homosexuality?”

Ye Hua, clearing the dishes and about to wash up, grumbled helplessly: “Why are you searching this?”

Chen Meijuan’s eyes were still swollen. “I don’t care. Help me search—I can’t type pinyin.”

“Ah, alright…” Ye Hua set down the stack of dishes. “I told you, first go wash up and rest. Don’t think about it today.”

“You just think about resting! Our daughter is out there with nowhere to go, and you don’t care!”

“Alright, alright, alright… don’t cry… I’ll search now. Wait while I find my glasses.”

Support