It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 39

The dinner was set at a hotpot restaurant four subway stops away from school. Ye Wanjia reserved a table on her phone, so they didn’t have to wait.

Strictly speaking, this was the first time she had a meal alone with Pei Suye. No roommates, no student council, no one else—just the two of them.

She felt a little nervous.

Watching the bubbling soup, Ye Wanjia’s heart stirred, and she didn’t dare look directly at Pei Suye she looked too beautiful today!

The moss-green lotus-leaf collar dress was very form-fitting, showing the smooth lines of her collarbone. A single pearl pendant rested in the hollow of her neck. Her long, straight black hair fell naturally, with a light-colored hairband at the top, looking like dew on a morning lotus—crystal-clear and elegant.

And she was wearing the maple leaf brooch Ye Wanjia had given her.

“You look really beautiful today, Senior,” Ye Wanjia said honestly.

Pei Suye smiled gently. “Mm, thank you. I just bought this dress—it’s not bad, right?”

“Yes, it’s very pretty, and it suits your temperament perfectly.”

Unfortunately, Ye Wanjia didn’t have much money; otherwise, she would buy all the pretty dresses for Pei Suye.

Pei Suye picked up a piece of beef tripe, put it into the dipping sauce bowl across from her, and said, “Actually, you look nice in a dress too.”

Ye Wanjia blushed. “I rarely wear dresses—only during etiquette team training.”

Pei Suye’s eyes flickered. “Do you want to go look around later? The second floor has lots of women’s clothes.”

“No, no, the clothes here are too expensive!”

“I mean, come with me to look.”

“Oh… okay, then.”

She was secretly excited to watch Pei Suye try on clothes!

She couldn’t remember exactly what they talked about during the meal. She only vaguely remembered that it was comfortable talking with her. At first, she was nervous and shy, but Pei Suye always found just the right topics, like: “Only two people won awards with you in the April TOEFL exam,” or “I saw you at the basketball lesson the other day—how did it feel?”

Or: “First year is almost over—have you adapted to university life?”

Ye Wanjia remembered this question clearly and replied, “Yes, it’s very different from high school, but I’m happy.”

Pei Suye then asked, “In what way is it different?”

Ye Wanjia blurted out, “In high school, you couldn’t date.”

As soon as she said it, a flash of white shot through her mind, like fireworks exploding in the pitch-black night sky—golden light blinding her, illuminating the vast darkness, then fading away, leaving behind calm and endless stillness.

Pei Suye caught a flicker of fireworks in her eyes. A small smile passed through her otherwise calm gaze, like a tiny roadside yellow flower basking in sunlight—bright and cheerful. Her question had a hidden meaning:

“So… do you want to date now?”

The noisy hotpot restaurant buzzed with chatter, like a breakfast stall throwing fried dough into hot oil, bubbles rising and the smell of smoke filling the air.

Amid this intense bustle, a single bamboo stalk stood firm, covered in turquoise frost and drifting snow, pure, elegant, and mysterious—completely out of place among the chaos, radiating a distant feeling everyone chased.

Perhaps it was love.

“Let’s go with the flow,” Ye Wanjia said, having held it in for a long time.

This first meal was Ye Wanjia’s treat, in fulfillment of their TOEFL agreement.

Later, when they were together, some who liked to tease would comment that Ye Wanjia “ate off her,” so Pei Suye started calling her “Boss Ye.” Even after they graduated from graduate school and earned substantial salaries, whenever Ye Wanjia bought a small toy at a street stall, Pei Suye would whisper in her ear:

“Thank you, Boss.”

“What? You clearly spend way more on me,” Ye Wanjia once complained.

Pei Suye would reply, “It doesn’t matter—you’re my boss, I only listen to my boss.”

At that time, Pei Suye seemed like a master in a love story, always teasing Ye Wanjia. Every time “Boss” was said, Ye Wanjia would bashfully cover her mouth, threatening, “Next time I won’t buy it for you.” Pei Suye would then furrow her beautiful brows and quietly sigh, “I knew it, I’m getting old and worn out—my boss doesn’t like me anymore.” Ye Wanjia would shyly press a soft kiss to her cheek.

After dinner, Ye Wanjia accompanied Pei Suye to buy clothes.

Pei Suye had a great figure—tall, slender waist, long legs, and curvy in all the right places. Unlike her, who was stick-thin, flat in front and back.

“How’s this one?”

Pei Suye came out of the fitting room in a long, sky-blue, asymmetrical neckline dress—simple and elegant, without any patterns.

Ye Wanjia’s answer was as expected: “It looks nice—the blue suits you.”

Although she knew what Ye Wanjia would say, hearing the compliment made her feel even happier. “Mm, not bad.”

She twirled in front of the mirror, looked at the front and back, then asked the salesperson for another one.

The second dress was white with large, evenly spaced geometric patterns. The moment she put it on, she transformed from a college student into a city white-collar worker—simple, capable, with a hint of authority.

“This one looks good too.” Ye Wanjia gave her honest opinion without being asked.

Pei Suye didn’t speak, but through the mirror, she looked at Ye Wanjia sitting slightly behind her on the right. Her gaze lingered, imagining some scene in her mind.

Caught by Pei Suye’s eyes, Ye Wanjia felt a bit unsure and looked again at the dress, confirming: “It really looks good.”

Pei Suye snapped out of her thoughts, smiled softly, and explained: “It’s nice, but we still need something else.”

The third dress was a long, russet-colored linen dress. Its cotton-linen material made it look simple, with a round collar and a palm-width red silk belt at the waist, accentuating her figure. The overall tone was warm, soft, with a touch of French vintage style.

“How’s this one?” Pei Suye turned to ask.

Ye Wanjia looked from head to toe, then back again, and carefully said, “The dress is nice, but it doesn’t quite match your temperament.”

Pei Suye’s temperament was cool, usually favoring cool tones—blues, whites, greens—soft, subtle colors. This russet dress did seem slightly out of place.

“I think it actually suits me.” Pei Suye’s eyebrows moved slightly, and her eyes curved in a genuine smile.

Watching her walk to pay, Ye Wanjia secretly reflected in her heart: indeed, someone who understands fashion is different—she had been giving her own random opinions all along.

In April, the phoenix trees sprouted fresh leaves for the new season—vivid and tender, like watercolor just brushed on, still wet from the wind.

Ye Wanjia’s dorm was close to the school gate. Pei Suye, using the excuse of digesting their meal, walked her to the dorm. They didn’t take a bike or taxi, strolling slowly for twenty minutes. Streetlights stretched their shadows long; walking side by side, sometimes getting a little closer, their blurred shadows would brush together, almost like holding hands.

“If only we could actually hold hands,” Ye Wanjia thought secretly.

At the dorm building, she said goodbye. “Senior, I’m here.”

Pei Suye nodded, reminding her, “You forgot something.”

“Huh?” Ye Wanjia felt her canvas bag—keys and phone were there.

Pei Suye picked up the cardboard bag with the new dresses. Her eyes reflected tiny points of light.

“Your dresses.”

An hour ago, someone had already made up their mind looking at Ye Wanjia in plain colors and said:

“I think it actually suits you.”

It wasn’t about Ye Wanjia.

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