It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 109

“Why did the power go out?! It’s so dark!”

“And water keeps coming in… Are we going to drown here? I’m scared!”

“My phone has no signal either! What do we do?!”

“Hopefully my roommate isn’t playing games and will come find me soon!”

When the doors were locked, people’s reactions were mild. But when the power failed, panic fell along with the darkness.

Fear spreads faster than expected, especially in a confined space. Rainwater poured in through the only door seam, and soon the water reached the ankles of the first row.

At that moment, countless memories flooded her mind.

At 30 years old, Pei Suye had experienced countless ups and downs in life. Whether it was a malfunction during an event, being followed and having to call the police at night, or being surrounded by homeless people in the U.S., she had always remained calm and made the right decisions.

Today was no different.

At that instant, she seemed to travel back ten years, standing beneath a fluttering flag, crisp white shirt, eyes gleaming.

Turning on her phone’s flashlight, she stepped to the front of the lecture stage and called out:

“Everyone, don’t panic. Listen to me.”

There was a certain power in Pei Suye—not from a sharp voice or commanding presence, but an invisible force that always drew attention. Just like back when she managed hundreds of people at the veterinary hospital, no one ever doubted her.

She waved her phone. “Now, everyone turn on your phone flashlights and point them at the ceiling.”

There were 150 students in the classroom. 150 phones shone upward, reflecting light off the ceiling. It wasn’t as bright as the chandeliers, but it was enough to see.

“Good, very good,” she continued.

“Now, move back. This is a tiered classroom, and the back rows are higher. Push your chairs back and sit on the tables.”

One by one, the students moved back in an orderly manner. In the dim light, it looked as if a group of celestial attendants were slowly ascending.

Boom—

Thunder roared outside, rain hammered against the walls and windows, shaking everyone to the core.

The sixth lecture building was over fifty years old. The basement tiered classroom had originally been a warehouse, ventilated only by the air conditioner and what should have been open doors.

Locked doors and a power outage made the already cramped space oxygen-poor. After ten minutes, some students raised their hands.

“Teacher, I’m having trouble breathing…”

The girl was on her period, her lips pale, arms trembling as she supported herself on the table.

Pei Suye helped her, working with the counselor to carry her to the left front table where the air was better. She gave her some water and arranged two other girls to stay with her.

“Everyone, spread out, especially those in the back. Don’t crowd,” she instructed.

“Okay,” the students replied, moving to safer positions. Meanwhile, the water had already submerged half the second row. Anxiety rose. Some tried to send a final message to their families, only to find no signal.

“Professor Pei, are we going to die here?” someone asked.

Pei Suye smiled faintly. “No. In this information age, with so many of us gone missing, someone will notice.”

The students murmured among themselves—some reassured, some fearful.

Suddenly, someone shouted, “What’s that?!”

Everyone looked ahead. Floating in the water, about a meter deep, was a small velvet box, the size of an egg. Its silver exterior reflected a faint glow.

Pei Suye felt her coat pocket. Sure enough, she said:

“Sorry, that’s mine.”

The water was too high, reaching a meter. Using the flagpole at the back and with the counselor’s help, she retrieved the box.

It was her proposal ring.

Tomorrow would be her birthday.

Stars in the sky, the person she loved beside her—there could be no better moment.

Yet here she was, stuck in a dark classroom instead of sitting in a car to the airport.

Life was like a long river. Everyone had to feel their way across, step by step, occasionally pausing to admire the sparkling flowers at the cliff’s edge.

The darker the environment, the more one yearns for light.

The appearance of the ring box ignited sparks in everyone’s hearts. Even in this dire situation, curiosity and warmth drew people closer.

“Is that a ring box?”

“Professor Pei, you’re already wearing a ring—another one?”

“Are you proposing? My sister said the engagement ring is different from the wedding band.”

Pei Suye smiled wryly.

“It’s an engagement ring, but I never found the right time.”

“Wow…”

“Really an engagement ring!”

“I heard your girlfriend is also from our college. Is that true?”

“How did you two meet?”

Curiosity about their famous love story spread through the classroom.

Meanwhile, Ye Wanjia had finished surgery and left her pet with the duty veterinarian. As she changed, she stretched comfortably, but her phone had no message from Pei Suye.

It was 9:20 PM. The lecture was supposed to have ended at 9. Normally, academic talks did not run late, and Pei Suye usually controlled the timing.

The news on the browser said: “Blue Rainstorm Warning,” “Local Heavy Rain.” Perhaps Pei Suye, considering flight cancellations, extended her lecture.

Still, Wanjia’s heart was uneasy. No message—nothing. Not even during the scheduled ten-minute break.

At 9:30, she called Xu Qian, Pei Suye’s undergraduate roommate, now a vice secretary.

“Qian-jie, did you attend her lecture tonight?”

Xu Qian checked the lecture schedule: “It should be over, right? Not 9 PM?”

Wanjia’s anxiety increased. Couldn’t reach her, and the counselor? She didn’t have their contact either.

“Wait, I’ll call,” Xu Qian said.

Once the counselor’s number was dialed, the situation became clear—unreachable.

By 9:50, the basement classroom was silent. Water reached half a person’s height at the door. Students built a small bridge with tables, placing one boy at the front to knock and observe.

Inside, Pei Suye comforted over a hundred students, slowly telling the story of her and Ye Wanjia.

“The first time I saw her, I thought—what a pure girl.”

She looked upward, memories drifting back to the freshman opening ceremony.

“During military training, the obedient students were assigned sentry duty, so the others could secretly rest… But she didn’t. She stood straight at the door, head held high, like a sentry.”

The girls laughed, recognizing her diligence.

“She’s not lazy. She just always did everything diligently,” Pei Suye explained.

Her family wasn’t wealthy, but she never complained. She worked hard to change her own destiny.

“She’s like resilient grass in the storm. Not a mighty tree, but with sheer perseverance, surviving in a ruthless world.”

Pei Suye could speak of Wanjia endlessly—first encounter, brave acts, sending away suitors, helping her excel in sports, and that night under the stars when she confessed.

Under her gentle voice, everything became soft and dreamlike. Like fireflies appearing in the dark night, one by one, then many, illuminating the classroom and filling the void with a legendary love story.

“Professor Pei, will Doctor Ye come to save you?” a student asked.

Pei Suye had faith, absolute trust—just like trusting the sun and moon.

“She will. That’s why everyone, don’t worry.”

Some students whispered anxiously: “But it’s been so long, no signal…”

“Maybe she doesn’t know we’re here?”

“Or thinks your lecture just ran over time…”

Pei Suye said nothing, only:

“She will come.”

The fireflies gradually faded with the wind.

Just as the counselor suggested Pei Suye continue her story—

“Senior! Senior—are you in there?!”

Outside, amidst the storm, a high-pitched call rang out. The fireflies suddenly gathered again, shining brighter than before.

Footsteps trudged through the water, followed by frantic knocks.

Pei Suye stood tall, eyes bright:

“Xiao Yezi!”

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