It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 36

In the brick-and-tile house of her rural hometown, Ye Wanjia’s family of three was having dinner.

At the table, Ye Wanjia was biting into the braised pork trotters, which hadn’t appeared on their dining table for months, and asked,

“By the way, Dad, I saw a lot of snacks at home. Have you been selling them at a stall?”

Ye Hua nodded, his white hair shining brightly under the light. “Yes, your mom and I run a small stall now. We can earn a bit each month.”

“Aren’t you working as a chef at that restaurant?”

“I made a mistake while cooking a dish and cost the boss a big client, so I didn’t continue there.”

In reality, it was because Chen Meijuan’s condition had been worsening, and he often had to take her to the hospital for dialysis or care for her in emergencies at home. The boss eventually fired him. He didn’t tell this to avoid increasing Chen Meijuan’s guilt.

Chen Meijuan, trying to comfort Ye Wanjia, said, “Don’t worry, Wanjia. I’m feeling much better now. I can make about ten yuan a day making straw hats with your aunt. Running the stall is convenient, too; I can keep an eye on things.”

Ye Wanjia was naturally concerned. “But in this small county town, it’s not like a big city. There’s hardly any nightlife. How can you earn much from a stall?”

Ye Hua had previously worked in Chinatown without contributing to a pension. Returning to their hometown in his forties, he worked as a restaurant chef in a small county town. Paying a little each year, now he only had a pension of a little over a thousand yuan per month. Even with the stall income, it barely covered Chen Meijuan’s medical expenses. Not to mention, they still had a child in school—Ye Wanjia.

“Mom, here’s an idea,” Ye Wanjia quickly said. “Next semester, I’ll get a scholarship. My grades can earn me 4,000 yuan. Combined with my part-time work, you won’t need to send me living expenses next semester.”

Chen Meijuan felt pained. “No, that won’t do. You’re just a girl. You should spend when you need to. Besides, now is the best time to study. Focus on your classes. Rest during your free time—you don’t need to work part-time.”

Ye Hua also advised, “Yes, listen to your mom. We get low-income support and my pension. We have money at home; don’t worry about it.”

After much persuasion, the parents reluctantly agreed to send a slightly reduced allowance each month.

When leaving, her father drove the tricycle and took her mother along to send her to the long-distance bus station. It was just dawn, and the cold made them shiver. Chen Meijuan hobbled along, legs unsteady, helping her reach the ticket gate. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she tried not to let them fall.

“Sweetheart, behave yourself, study hard. I’ll call you every Sunday,” she said.

Ye Hua’s bent back seemed irritated at her sentimentality. He waved his hands like dry branches. “Sigh, you’re at it again. Your daughter comes back during vacations anyway. Alright, alright, Wanjia, be safe, and call us when you get there.”

He handed over a bag of snacks.

Ye Wanjia accepted it. “Okay, you both go home. I’m leaving now. We’ll video call if anything comes up!”

She heaved her oversized suitcase and trudged toward the bus to the city’s main train station.

Placing her luggage in the bus compartment, she carried her backpack and the snack bag onto the seat.

Once seated, she carefully opened the snacks her father had packed: mung bean cakes, oranges, spicy chicken claws, and pickled radish made by her mother.

At the very bottom, tied with a rubber band, was a stack of money.

Two 100-yuan bills, two 50-yuan bills, and smaller denominations of 10s and 5s totaling another 100 yuan in loose change. Crumpled but pressed flat, every crease reflected the wrinkles of her parents’ faces.

Buzz!

Her phone vibrated. It was a message from her father:

“Daughter, the poor make the way rich. Buy something if you’re hungry on the road, and do the same at school. Take care of yourself. We’ve got you at home, don’t worry.”

“Uh…”

The melancholy of leaving home and her parents’ love made her eyes sting, and two tears slipped down. Ye Wanjia tilted her head back, letting the tears roll around in her eyes before falling, unable to stop them.

She didn’t know how to change her fate. Others seemed to earn money with a flick of their fingers, born into wealth and comfort, living a life of luxury. Her family had to work so hard just to survive.

The future felt distant, and reaching a place full of flowers seemed impossible. She didn’t know whether to buy a lottery ticket, pray, or start a business. But there was one path she knew for sure—study.

The new semester began. Ye Wanjia focused even more in class, always sitting in the front rows.

The Student Council, meanwhile, held a carefully organized meeting to discuss the semester plan.

The Literature Club’s main annual event, “Chinese Heroes”, had already taken place last semester. This semester’s work would be easier, mostly reading sessions and essay competitions.

Ye Wanjia was tasked with taking the meeting minutes. After everyone left, she stayed a few minutes to organize the notes and send them to the group for filing.

Buzz!

Her phone vibrated with a message from Pei Suye:

[Pei Miss: Little Ye, come to the office.]

The meeting was on the 6th floor of the college building, in a conference room. The college office also served as the Student Council office and duty station.

Her heart raced—could the meeting notes be unsatisfactory? Or was there another task to assign? Or perhaps she had swapped shifts for her part-time job yesterday and missed her duty, which Pei Suye noticed?

Her mind went through several scenarios until a slow-loading picture finally arrived—

It was a box full of pastries.

“There, try them. How do you like them?”

The office was empty except for the two of them. Pei Suye handed her the transparent box generously.

Ye Wanjia peeked inside. Every pastry was the size of a thumb-and-forefinger circle, molded into the shape of peaches.

Peaches—her favorite fruit.

“All made by you, senior?” Ye Wanjia was delighted.

Pei Suye smiled at her shining eyes. “Yes. Strictly speaking, my mom and I made them together.”

Ye Wanjia blinked. “Your… aunt?”

Pei Suye explained, “When I got home, she saw the hairpin you gave me. We thought, in keeping with etiquette, we should return the favor. So she taught me to make these white peach pastries.”

Ye Wanjia held the bottom of the round box. “That hairpin was to thank you for lending me the dress. Without it, I wouldn’t have passed the etiquette team interview.”

Pei Suye said calmly, “It’s the same. You gave me something before; now I’m giving you something. Give and take—that’s what people do, right?”

Ye Wanjia’s heart skipped a beat—give and take… could it also mean love?

“Then I won’t be polite.”

Thinking that Pei Suye made them herself, her lips couldn’t stop curling upward. She smiled sweetly with dimples, took the top pastry, and popped it into her mouth. It was crispy with a subtle white peach sweetness.

Pei Suye watched her chew, noting the little lift of her brows from enjoyment. Her heart felt full. “White peach has a slightly different fragrance than regular peach. Even if you eat a bit more, it won’t feel greasy.”

Ye Wanjia bit another piece, almost the whole pastry in her mouth, her grape-like eyes curving happily. “Mmm! It’s really good, not greasy at all!”

Holding the box, she said, “Senior, you should have one too; there’s plenty.”

Pei Suye picked a slightly larger one from the top layer but didn’t eat immediately. “I’m a bit full from lunch. You can help me split this one.”

Without thinking, Ye Wanjia grabbed the other end of the pastry and split it perfectly in half. “There, done!”

Ye Wanjia bounced out of the office with the box of pastries like a child. Pei Suye stared after her until a voice behind her made a smacking sound:

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

It was Xu Qian, Pei Suye’s roommate and head of the Life Department. She peeked out from behind the desk and approached, accusing as if catching her in the act:

“I knew it! Shaped like peaches and kept in your little fridge. So it was for your Judy Bunny!”

Pei Suye narrowed her eyes, regaining her office seriousness. “What are you doing here?”

Xu Qian raised an eyebrow smugly. “Can’t I? I came looking for something, heard you two talking, so I peeked.”

Noticing Pei Suye hadn’t eaten the peach-shaped pastry, she mused, “Divide the peach.”

She leaned close, staring at Pei Suye. “Pei Suye, may I ask seriously, what does this phrase mean in ancient times? You know?”

“I know.”

“Then—”

“—it means, don’t tell Xu Qian, or she’ll blab to everyone.”

“You!”

Xu Qian sulked, then thought about how Pei Suye’s aloof image might crumble because of someone, which made her happy.

“Hmph, even if I don’t say, I don’t believe you can keep this a secret forever.”

Support