It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 17

The little road from the snack street back to school was always bustling. The vendors’ lights stayed on until late at night, only going out after the weary graduate students finished their experiments and descended like a last wave of starving ghosts. Only then would the street finally fall silent.

At this moment, it was already 10:30 p.m. Without bicycles, Ye Wanjia and Wei Xiaoxiao walked back to the dormitory on foot. After passing the lively snack street, Wei Xiaoxiao handed her phone to Ye Wanjia.

“Hey, let me show you something good.”

“What is it?”

Ye Wanjia took the phone. On the screen was a photo—taken when she had just helped Pei Suye clip on a hairpin.

The overall tone of the photo was dim. The snack street, without large storefronts, wasn’t brightly lit. Under the red signboard with the big characters “Brother Jiu’s Barbecue,” two tall figures faced each other. Pei Suye tilted her head slightly while Ye Wanjia raised both hands, one holding the hairpin, the other helping fix her hair. Her hands were so tense that her fingers curled daintily like orchid petals.

The streetlamp behind Pei Suye cast a slanted yellow glow, outlining a faint golden halo around the two figures. In that instant, with the night deep and the light and shadows entwined, the simple scene seemed elevated into something sacred—like a medieval statue bathed in sea breeze.

“Hey, you secretly took another photo!” Ye Wanjia scolded nervously.

Wei Xiaoxiao was unapologetic. “Wow, I’m the designated ‘little bee,’ responsible for taking pictures, okay?”

“If senior finds out, she’ll think we’re creeps.”

“Relax. My angle was super hidden. No way she noticed me. Besides—”

Wei Xiaoxiao jabbed her with an elbow, grinning wickedly. “Can you honestly say you don’t like this picture?”

Ye Wanjia let out a soft hum, but the corners of her lips lifted, dimpling into a pear-shaped smile. “Send it to me.”

Wei Xiaoxiao named her price: “Then tomorrow in biochemistry class, let me copy your homework.”

“This week’s all yours. Send me the original photo.”

“Deal!”

The two walked on cheerfully, their shadows bouncing under the streetlights, spelling out the vitality of youth.

As they neared the dorm area, Ye Wanjia suddenly remembered something. “Oh, by the way—”

“What?”

“How did you even find the restaurant today?”

Her curiosity was justified. Wei Xiaoxiao was a world-class direction idiot. Worse, she was a supremely confident one. She had insisted Ye Wanjia go ahead first, promising to arrive right after.

That “right after” became an hour.

Had she been any later, Ye Wanjia really would’ve been forced to kiss Pei Suye in the game.

“The president shared her location with me,” Wei Xiaoxiao said.

“What?” Ye Wanjia opened their sports meet group chat. “There’s nothing here.”

“She sent it to me privately.”

“Oh.” Ye Wanjia froze for a second, then snapped back. “Wait—she initiated it?”

Wei Xiaoxiao opened WeChat. “Yeah. Look, just a couple minutes before I came up. But we never chatted before; that’s the only message. Actually, I was already downstairs, just couldn’t find the entrance. What were you doing then? Why’d she suddenly hurry me up?”

Ye Wanjia pressed her lips together, her pretty eyes half-lowered. “At that time… they were egging me on to do a dare—kiss someone.”

Wei Xiaoxiao groaned. “Ugh, and you didn’t just pin her down and French kiss her?”

“What nonsense.” Her teeth grazed her lower lip, tinting it red, her gaze turning serious. “Kissing her in Truth or Dare would’ve been too mean. That’s not real liking.”

Wei Xiaoxiao nearly cried. “And instead you kissed me?! Aren’t you worried Pei Suye will misunderstand? Wait—hold on.”

A spark flashed, connecting the dots—

“Could it be… she figured out that’s how you felt? So she tried to help you out, by rushing me up there? Damn, am I imagining it, or does it seem like she actually likes you?”

But Ye Wanjia was lost in her own little world, deep in thought. After a long pause, she asked:

“How did you add her on WeChat?”

Wei Xiaoxiao blinked, stunned for a full ten seconds before realizing the implication.

“You don’t mean to say… you still haven’t added her yet?”

The late-night campus path echoed with a roar worthy of Sun Erniang herself:
“Bro! You’re chasing someone—and you don’t even add them on WeChat?!”

Back at the dorm, Wang Zhaodi had already turned off the lights.

The six roommates had agreed to switch off at 11 p.m. sharp. But whenever Ye Wanjia and Wei Xiaoxiao came back late, Wang Zhaodi would deliberately turn off the lights at 10:30.

Wei Xiaoxiao, hot-tempered as ever, always wanted to charge over and fight it out with her. Ye Wanjia had to restrain her—better to avoid trouble than stir it up.

The two slipped into the washroom, pulled a curtain shut, and showered with hot water. After brushing their teeth, they tiptoed back into the dorm, even though everyone else was only pretending to be asleep.

Ye Wanjia drew her cheap Pinduoduo 9.9 yuan bed curtain closed, sat cross-legged against the wall. The wall’s warmth seeped through her thin pajamas, carrying the mild heat of early November—just like the warmth in her heart.

She lit up her phone, scrolled through the sports meet WeChat group until she found Pei Suye’s profile picture, and tapped.

The avatar was simple: a hand making an “OK” gesture, thumb and forefinger circling the moon, like a wise eye gazing from the sky.

Below was a personal signature, short yet imbued with her unique touch—

Plant flowers in your heart, and you’ll carry fragrance all your life.

What a beautiful line. Whether in knowledge or in temperament, even as someone who wasn’t close to her, Ye Wanjia could sense that inner garden.

Hu…

She took two deep breaths, mustered her courage, and tapped Add to Contacts.

The default verification note read: I’m Ye Wanjia from the group “Vet School Sports Meet No.1.”

No, too perfunctory.

She erased it and typed: Hello senior, I’m Ye Wanjia, the one who joined you in the high jump and got third place.

Hmm… still no good. Too long. Too forced.

Delete. Rewrite:

Hello senior, I’m Ye Wanjia from Veterinary Medicine Class 233, student ID 20230111.

I’m Little Leaf. Please approve my request.

Senior, I’m Ye Wanjia. Thank you for the hairpin—it’s beautiful.

Delete, write, delete again—over and over. The same girl who had scored 58 in her college entrance exam essay was now trapped in the nightmare of a friend request message. The more she revised, the worse it looked. In the end, she surrendered to the default:

I’m Ye Wanjia from the group “Vet School Sports Meet No.1.”

Send.

Dong… dong…

For the next few seconds, silence fell all around her. The ringing in her ears pressed down like air collapsing in her chest.

Her thumb refreshed the screen again and again, but the interface remained still.

It was already eleven. She was probably asleep—or washing up. They said junior dorms had private bathrooms; maybe she was showering.

Or maybe… she just didn’t want too many contacts. Maybe she simply didn’t approve the request.

After all, she was the grand student union president. With countless connections in and out of school, her list must be exploding. Why would she bother adding a freshman who merely competed in one event with her?

One side of her mind reasoned calmly, while the other side sank into quiet sorrow.

She suddenly remembered her former deskmate. After learning she liked girls, that classmate had deliberately drawn a line between them. Back then, she had felt the same way—understanding on the surface, but wounded deep inside.

Bzzz!

Just as her thoughts spiraled, the phone buzzed twice—

“I’ve accepted your friend request. Now we can start chatting.”

And right after, a simple greeting—yet one that pulled Ye Wanjia back from the cliff edge:

[Suye: Hello, Little Leaf]

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