It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 11

The morning was bright and clear. Wisps of delicate cloud rippled across the pristine blue sky, sunlight carrying that unique golden hue of dawn, seeping silently through the lingering mist and bathing the campus in freshness.

Slanting rays filtered through the metasequoia avenue, fragmented by dense branches into scattered beams of light, cutting the plain air into shimmering patches, lending the scene a dreamlike touch.

Ye Wanjia would never forget that day. Everything felt like a movie scene, as if a seasoned film crew had spent weeks perfecting the lighting, the positioning, every detail, until it became a flawless tableau.

And at the very center of the tableau—stood Pei Suye.

Her crisp white school uniform was as clean as drifting clouds. Long jade-like legs disappeared beneath black trousers, while her light-blue jacket resembled a rain-washed sky.

She was dressed just like everyone else—yet she alone carried an otherworldly grace.

“Get on,” Pei Suye said.

Snapping out of her daze, Ye Wanjia quickly hopped onto the back seat of her bicycle. Not until Pei Suye had pedaled a dozen meters forward did her thoughts finally catch up.

“Senior, you just came out too?”

Pei Suye’s voice blended into the wind. “Mm. Slept in today.”

Ye Wanjia felt relieved. “Same here! Luckily I ran into you, otherwise I’d definitely be late.”

Thunk!

The bicycle bumped over a speed hump. This time her hips didn’t ache like the last ride. Reaching back with her hand, her fingers brushed against something soft.

“Senior, did you put a cushion on the back seat?”

The corners of Pei Suye’s lips lifted. “The iron frame was uncomfortable before, so I added one. Is it better now?”

Ye Wanjia’s heart swelled sweetly. “Much better. We just went over a speed bump and I hardly felt a thing.”

The wind carried the faint fragrance of her hair. Deep within Ye Wanjia’s mind, two little souls—one black, one white—floated up.

Little White exclaimed joyfully: “She never had a cushion before! She must have put it on just for you! That means she likes you!”

Little Black poured cold water: “She’s the student council president. Who knows how many people she’s given rides to? You just happened to benefit this time. Don’t overthink it.”

Little White argued back: “Even so, that means she thought of you when making changes! And Pei Suye is famous for never being late. Maybe she didn’t see you around and came looking for you on purpose!”

Little Black retorted: “She was riding her bike anyway. She wouldn’t be late regardless. She just happened to save you from being late.”

The quarrel turned into a noisy black-and-white battle inside Ye Wanjia’s head. Finally, she kicked them both aside and chose simply to enjoy the wind laced with her senior’s scent, watching beams of light flicker across that soft tea-brown hair.

“Shadows shifting unevenly, light drifting faintly.”

The line of poetry suddenly sounded even more beautiful.

Thanks to Pei Suye’s help, Ye Wanjia arrived at the assembly point by the track right at 6:28.

There, nearly all the athletes for the formation parade had gathered, most of them wearing their uniforms, yawning lazily. When they saw the two arriving together, teasing immediately erupted.

“Ohhh—why’s the president bringing along a junior?”

“Hey, little junior, how’s the president’s back seat?”

“Don’t tell me she went all the way to your dorm to pick you up?”

“And even put on a cushion too? Is she your personal chauffeur now?”

Most participants in this year’s sports meet were juniors, Pei Suye’s own classmates. They usually attended classes and organized events together, so their teasing was lighthearted, lacking the distance Ye Wanjia felt with upperclassmen.

Flustered like a child caught doing wrong, Ye Wanjia feared tarnishing the icy reputation of her lofty senior. She hurried to explain:

“No, no! I just bumped into her on the way, and she gave me a lift since it was along the way!”

Pei Suye smiled openly. “She was rushing on the road, so I picked her up. Enough fooling around—line up according to yesterday’s formation. The opening ceremony is about to start.”

Having satisfied their gossip and banter, everyone returned to order, arranging themselves neatly by height. The playful words drifted away like a summer breeze—light for those who spoke, but heavy for the listener. Only Ye Wanjia’s cheeks remained burning red, even her gait turning stiff.

Pei Suye’s gaze flickered toward the blush coloring her ears. She smiled, but said nothing.

By 6:40, the Veterinary Medicine College’s formation was perfectly lined up, standing at the very front of the parade.

Then came an unexpected hitch with the assigned sign bearer.

“Sprained your ankle?”

Pei Suye’s brows furrowed at the phone call, rare composure shaken. “Where are you now?”

Though she quickly stepped aside to answer, everyone more or less guessed the situation. Less than a minute later, she returned, scanning the thirty students in the formation.

“Our sign bearer sprained her ankle. We need a tall girl to take her place.”

Her eyes landed on Ye Wanjia in the front row.

“Ye Wanjia, can you do it?”

At 168 cm with a slim figure, she was indeed the ideal candidate. But she had never served as a ceremonial usher before, nor did she know the graceful steps required.

More importantly, she wasn’t wearing makeup or a formal dress.

“Me? Can I?”

She tossed the question back nervously.

Pei Suye held her gaze for a moment, meeting those timid eyes. Her voice firmed.

“You can.”

She called over the vice president, Qiu Yan, to oversee the rest of the formation, then led Ye Wanjia toward the badminton gym on the west side of the field.

The venue had been temporarily repurposed for the opening ceremony. Performers, athletes awaiting check-in, speakers, even the lion-dance troupe—it was noisy and crowded.

“Boss! Over here!”

Art troupe leader Chen Bingbing waved frantically in the crowd, almost jumping onto someone’s shoulders to be seen.

The Veterinary Medicine group occupied a long table. Their original sign bearer sat on it, right foot propped up with a swollen ankle, volunteers applying ice packs.

Chen Bingbing was a bundle of nerves. “What do we do, boss? She’s definitely out! There’s only ten minutes before the opening starts. We still need makeup, costume changes, and even a replacement! Where are we supposed to find one?”

Pei Suye had handled countless large-scale events before; emergencies of this level didn’t faze her.

“I’ve brought the replacement. Ye Wanjia, go change clothes with her. Be back in three minutes.”

Ye Wanjia rushed off with the injured girl, who, determined despite her limp, hopped faster than others walking to the restroom.

Meanwhile, Pei Suye opened the college’s communal makeup kit and turned to Chen Bingbing.

“Keep it simple. When she comes back, you handle the makeup, I’ll do her hair. If everything goes smoothly, five minutes will be enough.”

Chen Bingbing fretted. “But there are only ten minutes left!”

“The ceremony has a sequence. First the hosts give their speech. Even when the parade begins, the flag team and color guard go first before us. That’ll buy us three or four extra minutes. It’ll be fine.”

Two minutes later, Ye Wanjia burst back from the restroom. Clothes really do make the person—normally she wore oversized T-shirts and jeans, usually in black, gray, or brown. But now, dressed in a white off-shoulder dress, her tall figure stood out strikingly.

Her slender neck curved like a swan’s. Her collarbones rose and fell with her quickened breath. Long flawless legs, slim and smooth, looked like they belonged to a mannequin in a designer’s studio.

Even without makeup, she drew every eye in the room.

Chen Bingbing blinked in disbelief. “How did I never realize our college had such a beauty?”

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