It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 3

There were more than a dozen versions of rumors about the Student Union of the College of Veterinary Medicine circulating on campus, but at the center of every rumor was the president, Pei Suye—

“Gentle, but with a fatal strike.”

As a frontline journalist, Wei Xiaoxiao had already organized a dossier of information on the presidium:

“Vice President Qiu Yan: pure physical damage—one kick and you’re sent home.
Vice President Liang Shangbin: verbal assault—you’ll be dead and buried, and he’ll still keep talking.
And as for President Pei Suye, don’t even get me started.”

Every time she got to this part, Wei Xiaoxiao’s voice dropped low, filled with a sense of dreadful awe:

“She’s a hexagonal warrior—top-tier mage with critical strike damage. Just one look from afar, and you’ll already surrender.”

Ye Wanjia thought this was a bit exaggerated.
“But I feel like…the president is pretty gentle.”

Wei Xiaoxiao hated iron for not becoming steel.
“Woman, do not underestimate the Presidium’s ruling power!”

Ye Wanjia didn’t quite believe her—until the day of the Student Union’s “Warmth Delivery” event.

Liang Shangbin never stopped talking for a second, spittle flying everywhere. Qiu Yan, the iron-faced executioner, didn’t say a word, eyes under the cap brim cold as ice, face expressionless, just handing out bottles of water.

Pei Suye, however, was gentle and considerate. With every bottle she gave, she greeted the students politely, letting the freshmen suffering under the scorching sun feel the warmth of the college. There was only “gentleness,” no “fatal strike.”

After the water was distributed, tradition dictated that freshmen should perform something in return, in the spirit of “give and take.” But it was already three in the afternoon, everyone was overheated and drained, and when the instructor asked, not a single person responded.

“Isn’t there anyone willing to sing? Even the one we taught yesterday, ‘Unity Is Strength,’ is fine.”

Still, silence.

Finally, Ye Wanjia raised her hand.
“Instructor, I’ll do it.”

The instructor was relieved.
“Good, what will you perform?”

“I can’t sing.”

The instructor: “……”

“But I used to do gymnastics, so I can do flips.”

Under the oppressive heat of military training, nobody had much energy to perform, and hearing one student after another sing the same songs was exhausting. Once, even a poetry recitation had been a refreshing surprise. And now, Ye Wanjia’s proposal to do flips stirred genuine excitement— even the ever-cold Qiu Yan glanced her way.

Ye Wanjia removed her training cap, unbuckled her outer belt, did two quick squats on her toes, then stepped outside the formation.

Like every gymnast, she stood on her toes, lifted her chin, and raised her hand to signal she was ready.

Thanks to days of dagger drill training, she could skip much of the warm-up. Dropping her arms, she dashed forward three quick steps, accelerating—cartwheel, cartwheel, 360° backflip, landing steady!

It took only three seconds—her form graceful in the air, her landing firm as if rooted like a tree. Her arms extended backward like the wings of a white swan, full-feathered and elegant.

“Wow—!”
“Amazing!”
“Is this the legendary Chinese martial arts?!”

The formation erupted in thunderous applause. Even girls from the neighboring formation cheered, though they were quickly caught by the instructor and punished with ten squats.

Vice President Liang Shangbin looked like he had found treasure in his own backyard. He launched into his grand oratory—one moment proclaiming “heroes emerge young,” the next, “the waves of the new generation push forward the old.” His saliva flew for several minutes, until he brought up the one thing he absolutely shouldn’t have:

“The most talked-about ‘Lucky Admission Queen’ in the freshman group is right here, in person!”

Boom—

It was as though lightning split the ground, a black fissure opening to release smoke and resentment across the field.

Already a third-year, Liang Shangbin had long moved past the college entrance exam, unable to grasp the raw, unresolved bitterness students like Wang Zhaodi still carried. When he finally shut his mouth, whispers rippled through the formation:

“She only scored 638—how’d she get into Vet Med?”
“If I knew there was a loophole, I wouldn’t have worked so hard in senior year.”
“She’s thirty points lower than me… I hate it.”

Just after her flips, Ye Wanjia stood alone at the front, facing dozens of students. She felt like a stray dog cast out of its pack, forced to endure the sharp but indistinct accusations of the group.

Her lips pressed tightly against her teeth, slender fingers gripping her camo pants, head bowed, her face hidden under the cap brim.

Only then did Liang Shangbin realize his mistake. Awkwardly laughing, he glanced desperately at President Pei Suye for help.

Boss, what do we do? Save me! Don’t stare at the little girl, look at me!

But no one else spoke. All eyes were knives, stabbing into Ye Wanjia, the judgment threatening to crush her completely.

Then suddenly, a warm voice from the front:

“Actually, filling out your application form is a kind of skill too.”

It was Pei Suye.

She didn’t even look at Liang Shangbin. Her gaze lingered briefly on the helpless Ye Wanjia before stepping forward to the very front row. Her tone was calm, gentle, yet persuasive:

“With the same score, some can enter a top-tier 985 university, others only a 211. Those with higher scores lacked confidence, so they didn’t apply. But she did. That’s why the cutoff gap appeared. Her admission affirms not only her academic ability, but also her courage and boldness. She deserves it.”

She deserves it.

To Wang Zhaodi, her acceptance was “unfair.”
To Wei Xiaoxiao, it was “luck.”
But to Pei Suye, it was “a reflection of ability.”

She was worthy of the flowers and light she now stood in.

The fingers gripping her pants trembled. Into the bitterness of her heart flowed a stream of soft pink warmth, melting the cold sea within. She raised her head—and in the golden sunlight, she saw Pei Suye’s gentle profile, smooth ponytail, and steady gaze, as if she were bathed in a spring breeze.

Eloquence is not about twisting black into white. Eloquence reflects character; tone reflects upbringing; expression reflects logic. Only when all three are aligned can words carry such weight—turning the tide effortlessly, making others truly listen.

The September sunlight shone brightly, illuminating that gentleness in her eyes.

So it was true—exceptional people really did shine on their own.

Unaware she had already become someone else’s scenery, Pei Suye continued smoothly:

“All of you stood out in the gaokao, that army of thousands. You are here because of your genuine ability. After more than a decade of hard work, you chose to put Veterinary Medicine on your list. Now that your dream has come true at Nanzhou University, you are all successful exam takers. On behalf of the Student Union, I congratulate and welcome you. I hope you study hard these five years and achieve mastery in your field.”

Perhaps this was the “ruling power” Wei Xiaoxiao had spoken of.

Liang Shangbin, saved, clapped with teary relief, leaning like a little bird against Qiu Yan’s arm.
“As expected of the boss, her words are different!”

Qiu Yan shot him a dagger glare.
“You’re useless, always needing someone to clean up your mess.”

Pei Suye smiled faintly.
“Shangbin, didn’t you say you wanted to perform for the freshmen?”

Liang Shangbin stiffened. Through her gentle smile, he saw the hidden blade in her eyes. Bitterly grimacing, he braced himself and went up to sing.

Within the formation, the simple-hearted freshmen were convinced by Pei Suye’s words. When they clapped this time, their talk had shifted:

“She really does have a skill—otherwise, why didn’t I, or anyone else, manage to grab that loophole? Why only her?”
“Honestly…she just filled in her application truthfully. She didn’t do anything wrong. The others with higher scores didn’t apply—it’s their own fault.”
“Makes sense. Damn, if only I’d taken a shot at Tsinghua. Maybe I’d have made it.”

Thus, the small incident was smoothed over by Pei Suye’s wisdom. Under Wei Xiaoxiao’s playful leadership, Ye Wanjia even earned the nickname “Ye God.” For the next five years, before every exam, someone would seek her out to shake hands, claiming it was for “good luck.”

That day was forever etched into Ye Wanjia’s memory. She wrote in her diary:

“Lift your head to the moon, lower your gaze within; the starlight tears holes through me, yet luckily, beneath the bright moon, your gentleness remains.”

Every time she passed the rubber running track, she remembered: on that sunny afternoon, Pei Suye had opened a door for a little stray dog left at the edge of the crowd.

From then on, her path was bright and radiant.

The painful military training finally ended after half a month, and Ye Wanjia earned her very first college credit. Because of her outstanding dagger drill performance, she was chosen as lead demonstrator at the final report performance, scoring an impressive 95.

In college, without a schedule packed from 7:30 a.m. to 10 p.m., there was much more free time. Some played games, some went to the library, some worked part-time.

Ye Wanjia and a few classmates from the neighboring dorm took up a flyer-distribution job—12 yuan an hour—to add a little spending money to her modest freshman life.

As for Pei Suye, Ye Wanjia tucked her carefully into her heart, hidden away in a little box of sunlight. On quiet nights, she thought of her—the person who had reached out to her in this unfamiliar campus, glowing with her own light.

Since freshman and junior classes rarely overlapped, Ye Wanjia only caught sight of Pei Suye once in the cafeteria, watching from afar as she chatted easily with the head of the Life Department.

Later came the Exchange Student Sharing Session, about a month after military training ended.

Ye Wanjia signed up as a volunteer in charge of check-in, while Pei Suye was one of the guest speakers.

Pei Suye had curled her hair.

Her originally slightly wavy black hair was dyed ash-brown and permed into loose waves, like gentle ripples on the sea. It cascaded down to her chest, parted at the front, with one stray strand falling at her temple. Under the hall lights, it reflected a luminous glow, as if she stood under moonlight—elegant, yet tinged with languor.

“Wow…she’s gorgeous…”
“Where did she get that done? I want it too!”
“Excuse me, is this really about the hair? It’s the face!”
“Correction—also the aura.”

The volunteers in the front row whispered in awe, but Ye Wanjia—tasked with signing in the guests—was the very first to feel the full force of the campus belle’s presence.

“President.” She had rehearsed countless times in her head, so her voice wouldn’t tremble. Lowering her gaze, she passed the pen forward. “Please sign in here.”

Pei Suye’s smiling eyes curved gently. Her gaze fell on the top of Ye Wanjia’s bowed, hair-covered head, like sunlight caressing a morning garden, spotting the fullest bloom among the roses.

“Thank you.”

She found her name and signed in with a graceful flourish. Handing back the pen, she said softly:

“I remember you, little Leaf.”

The October breeze rippled gently across the lotus pond, and sunlight stole in—illuminating the moment of heart-stirring warmth.

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