It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 14

By the end of October, the air had shed its lingering heat. Under the azure sky, a few idle clouds drifted past, brushing over the ivory tower that brimmed with passion and joy.

The women’s high jump had reached its final stage. Contestant No. 19—Ye Wanjia from the College of Veterinary Medicine—was now competing with No. 12 for the third-place spot.

Relying on sheer self-encouragement and the fundamentals built during training, Ye Wanjia cleared 1.42 m. But No. 12 also cleared it, which meant the bar had to be raised again.

“Now raising to 1.44 m,” the referee’s voice came through the loudspeaker. “No. 12, you’re up.”

Ye Wanjia’s heart sank—neither she nor No. 12 had ever cleared 1.45 m. Dropping just a single centimeter from that height didn’t change much.

Sure enough, No. 12 failed her first attempt. Likewise, Ye Wanjia did not succeed either.

The referee frowned deeply, thinking, These two really are neck-and-neck. If neither clears it again, do we lower the bar to 1.43? Back and forth over just two centimeters, yet somehow this tiny margin is supposed to divide people into ranks, to separate entire paths of life.

On their second attempt, both failed again.

“They must be at their physical limit now.”

The surrounding athletes whispered among themselves, not holding out much hope for the third jump. Both Ye Wanjia and No. 12 had tall, slender builds, with little muscle in their legs—clearly not endurance athletes. If they couldn’t clear 1.45 m earlier when they still had energy, then now, drained of stamina, clearing 1.44 seemed nearly impossible.

In the stands, Wei Xiaoxiao grew frantic. She tried to vault over the railing onto the track, only to be stopped by volunteers. Struggling, she forced her way between two volunteers’ arms, prying open a “door” through the cheer squad and shouted:

“Ye Wanjia—GO FOR IT! Just flip over like you’re doing gymnastics! Flip over and you’ll be the carp leaping the dragon gate—”

Her warm and funny encouragement sparked laughter all around. Even the referee shook his head, smiling to himself. These post-2000s girls really do think in such whimsical leaps.

But Pei Suye didn’t smile.

The girl who was always known for her gentle smile had none at all. Because just as her lips had started to curve upward, her gaze landed on Ye Wanjia. She clearly saw that the moment “gymnastics” was mentioned, Ye Wanjia’s smile froze, turning faintly bitter.

It was a smile laced with regret and helplessness. Behind it lay a fear of something vast and overwhelming. As though, in the instant she stood in sunlight atop a mountain, she suddenly remembered the self who had once been trapped in thorns, unable to escape.

Pei Suye’s heart tightened—she realized she had never heard why Ye Wanjia had given up gymnastics.

While No. 12 prepared, Pei Suye made her way around the crowd of eliminated athletes still watching and stopped beside the girl sitting pensively on a folding stool.

“Nervous?” she asked.

Startled, Ye Wanjia looked up and found that the voice belonged to none other than Pei Suye—the champion who had already secured first place.

“A little,” she admitted honestly. After a pause, she added, “A little scared.”

Especially that moment after she leapt, when her body reached its highest point before gravity yanked her back down. It was as if countless clawing, screaming ghostly hands waited below, eager to tear her apart.

Pei Suye took in the look in her eyes. Sitting down on the chair beside her, she fixed her gaze ahead, watching the athletes running happily on the track, and said:

“The more you look back, the scarier it feels.”

Ye Wanjia blinked, turned to her, but said nothing.

Pei Suye’s eyes softened. Though she still looked forward, it felt as though her gaze rested on the one she cherished most. She continued:

“They all say university is a pure, flawless ivory tower. But even ivory towers have long, long staircases. To stand at the very top and see a wider, more beautiful world, you have to climb them one by one. Today is one of those steps. Don’t look back. Just step forward bravely.”

A spark flared deep in Ye Wanjia’s cold heart, faint yet unwilling to be ordinary in the dark.

She shifted slightly, hesitated, and said: “But I’m afraid if I miss this step, everything I worked so hard to climb before will be wasted.”

At that, Pei Suye drew her eyes back from the sea of people and turned to her, gaze luminous as moonlight:

“Even if you fall, we’ll be there to catch you.”

Even with fear, you move forward—that is the privilege of youth.

On her third attempt, No. 12 failed again, and upon landing on the mat, her calf cramped. Teammates helped her off to rest.

Now it was Ye Wanjia’s turn for her third jump.

She pulled her long braid to the front, took two deep breaths, her chest rising and falling. She bounced lightly on her toes three times, stepped back half a stride, lowering her slim frame slightly. Then her right foot pushed off—she began to sprint. Three strides, then accelerating, each step longer and faster, her tall silhouette surging and dipping among the crowd as she neared the bar and launched herself—

Her head cleared first, then her narrow shoulders, then her arched waist, then the only part of her body with some softness—her hips—and finally her long legs.

The bar stayed in place. She had cleared it.

The crowd around the field and in the stands erupted in cheers:

“Ahhhh—Ye Wanjia you’re amazing—!”

“Yes! Vet Med’s high jump is killing it this year!”

“Third place gets six points! Last year, aside from Pei Suye winning first, the other contestant only got sixth place, three points. This year Ye Wanjia really pulled through!”

“And she’s just a freshman! Give her two more years of practice, who knows who’ll be champion then!”

Ye Wanjia sat up on the mat, dazed. She stared blankly at the bar still perfectly balanced on the stand, at the white flag raised by the referee’s assistant, and finally realized—she had really done it.

When she turned, Pei Suye was standing before her, smiling faintly.

“Looks like I really can’t get out of that week of buying your drinks.”

The university sports meet operated on a larger scale than the college-level one.

For example, each event held an awards ceremony to present certificates and medals to the top three athletes. Though the medals were eventually collected back, those few minutes on the podium were already more than enough for some.

“Perfect, just like that.”

Wei Xiaoxiao, holding her DSLR, used the excuse of taking photos for the college’s public account to pull Pei Suye and Ye Wanjia into a joint shot.

Through the lens, she noticed Ye Wanjia still looked shy and nervous. Unable to resist her “CP fangirl” instincts, Wei Xiaoxiao teased openly:

“Come on, link arms, or put an arm around her shoulder or something. Standing so far apart, people would think you’re from different colleges.”

At that, Ye Wanjia heard Wei Xiaoxiao’s words echoing in her mind from back at the dorm: Be proactive, proactive, you have to be proactive. In a rush of courage, she boldly linked her arm through Pei Suye’s.

Wei Xiaoxiao grinned so wide her back teeth showed. Behind the camera, her eyes crinkled into slits as she muttered under her breath:

“Tsk tsk… what a sweet little couple…”

The shutter clicked, capturing that moment in time.

That day was happiness itself for Ye Wanjia. First, she had earned her very first high jump medal—third place. Second, she had won a week of Pei Suye’s “peach-flavored sparkling water.”

And third—when she went back to shower that night, she undid her long fishtail braid, only to feel something in her hair.

She pulled it free—a small white magnolia hairpin. Its petals were pure and translucent, unmarred by any flaw, as if moonlight itself brushed across them.

Her heart warmed as she slowly closed her fingers around it—after all, no one but Pei Suye could ever match the beauty of moonlight.

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