It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 41

9:30 PM, Xiangxie Garden Villa District.

Two tall, slender figures stepped out of Villa No. 8. One was Pei Suye, president of the Student Union at Nanzhou University’s College of Veterinary Medicine. The other was Ye Wanjia, whose mind was full of thoughts.

Today, Ye Wanjia was wearing the dress Pei Suye had given her. It was long, just reaching her calves. The muted rose color suited her perfectly; her previously pale, slightly sickly complexion was brightened, and the thin waist was cinched with a delicate silk belt. The gentle curves of the young girl’s figure were clear and flowing, with a hint of softness.

Just as Pei Suye had expected, she looked beautiful.

“There were too many people earlier, so I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” Pei Suye said, breaking the quiet of the night. “You look really good in this dress.”

The compliment, coming from Pei Suye, was ten times more delightful than the words themselves. Her lips curved into a shallow dimpled smile.

“Yeah, everyone said it looks nice. After all, clothes make the man,” Ye Wanjia replied.

She lightly fiddled with the smooth fabric of her dress, quickly glancing at the person beside her before shyly looking away, her voice softening: “Still, it’s your eye for things that’s the best. Thank you.”

The word “thank you” felt like a small callus forming in Pei Suye’s ear. She smiled helplessly: “Here you go again. I told you, don’t be so polite.”

Her gentle voice carried with the night breeze. Ye Wanjia lowered her head slightly, staring at the cobblestone path dimly outlined by the streetlights, sticking firmly to her principle:

“If thanks is due, then it must be said.”

Beneath her delicate exterior lived a firm and upright heart, full of the unique vitality of youth—energetic, passionate, and hopeful.

Pei Suye’s expression softened, and she didn’t insist on the “thank you” anymore. Instead, she asked, “Xiao Yezi, what do you want to do in the future?”

“Huh?” Ye Wanjia was caught off guard. She didn’t understand why Pei Suye would ask about the future—a word so distant yet filled with poetry and dreams, making her feel a sudden longing.

“In the future,” she said, “I want to make money. Lots of money. And then, buy a house by the sea.”

Pei Suye nodded, signaling that the idea sounded beautiful. “And then?”

“And then…” Ye Wanjia paused.

She gripped the fabric of her dress tightly; the pain from the friction of the fibers awakened a bit of courage. She slowed her pace and said as casually as possible:

“Sit on the rocks and watch the sea.”

We sit on the rocks and watch the sea, and maybe we’ll fall in love under the rocky sky—this was a poem by Junichiro Tanizaki. Ye Wanjia didn’t finish the rest of the line. As a first-time confessor, she needed to test the waters.

If Pei Suye understood the meaning and rejected her, whether coldly or indifferently, she could stop there, keeping some space between them.

If Pei Suye didn’t understand, she could explain gently, at least letting her long-hidden feelings be spoken aloud, seeking honesty.

The night breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves like a gentle melody. Walking side by side, the two maintained a distance of about a fist, their elbows occasionally brushing, igniting sparks in the darkness.

For a few seconds, neither spoke—only the sound of the wind.

Better than she expected, Pei Suye didn’t immediately reject her.

Ye Wanjia adjusted her breathing, clenching her fists as sweat appeared in her palms.

“It’s so quiet…” she sighed, silently repeating to herself three times: I like you, I like you, I like you, planning to say it simply and honestly.

But Pei Suye didn’t give her the chance. Instead, she suddenly asked:

“Are you cold?”

She opened the pocket of her coat, inviting Ye Wanjia to put her hand inside. Pale moonlight poured down, washing Pei Suye’s calm face in a gentle glow.

Ye Wanjia’s plan was disrupted. She froze for a moment, dazed, but faced with Pei Suye, she couldn’t refuse. She nodded, letting her hand slide into the open pocket.

The coat pocket was deep and wide, warm with Pei Suye’s body heat. The long, slender hand inside had neatly trimmed nails and smooth skin, holding her cold hand gently.

It was Ye Wanjia’s first time holding Pei Suye’s hand. She didn’t dare move; her hand stayed exactly as it entered, not bending or adjusting in the slightest.

Was Pei Suye hinting at something? Or just worried she might be cold in only a dress?

Her carefully gathered courage was again drowned in sweetness. That summer night, it wasn’t just her heart that was at stake.

“Xiao Yezi,” Pei Suye’s eyes flickered, moonlight trembling in them, “remember that day we had dinner? I asked you what’s different between high school and college. Do you remember?”

Ye Wanjia’s confession rhythm was disrupted; she completely lost her composure, and dazedly replied: “High school, you can’t date.”

She turned her head. Moonlight seeped through the leaves, illuminating Pei Suye’s face. Her long eyelashes fluttered. She said: “My question is the same as that day.”

Ye Wanjia blinked. “Question? What question?”

Pei Suye stopped walking, causing Ye Wanjia to stop as well. She turned to face Ye Wanjia directly, eyes sincere, honest, and a little nervous.

“Now… do you want to date?”

Ye Wanjia stared at her, her grape-like eyes sparkling like crystal, captivated as if by fireworks, her body frozen.

Buzz…

A loud, rolling sound echoed in her mind, like a castle rising from the ground, bricks and earth flying, landing in a place paved with flowers.

“What… does that mean?”

Ye Wanjia couldn’t find her thoughts, couldn’t find her tongue. She looked from Pei Suye’s left eye to the right, seeing only heart-throbbing tenderness, unsure if it was meant for her.

Even Pei Suye was nervous about confessing to a girl she liked, though not as intensely. She relied on her usual calmness to explain her feelings clearly:

“Xiao Yezi, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Boom—

Fireworks bloomed in the night, exploding magnificently. Ye Wanjia couldn’t believe her ears, her mind blank, slowly repeating Pei Suye’s words:

“Date… date?”

Pei Suye’s eyes were full of adoration. She stepped forward, bending slightly to gently pull Ye Wanjia into her embrace, her soft voice whispering in her ear:

“I want to be your girlfriend. Do you think that’s okay?”

Her voice flowed like a moonlit stream, clear, delicate, and tender.

Ye Wanjia’s hands hung by her sides, unable to believe she was the lucky one. Her heart pounded wildly:

“Senior… you… if you say that, I’ll take it seriously. Even if you lost a game of truth or dare, I… I’d still take it seriously.”

Pei Suye’s voice mingled with the night breeze: “It was a lost game.”

Ye Wanjia’s gaze fell—so it was true, she wouldn’t like her.

But before disappointment could settle, Pei Suye added:

“But it wasn’t a dare. It was truth.”

The moon rose slowly in the silent night, witnessing a human world filled with the warmth of fireworks.

As ordinary people, we accomplish ordinary things in our daily lives, yet in the ordinary, we find extraordinary love. April passed, May came, and summer collided with the heart, sparking fireworks that rivaled the stars—half beautiful, half romantic.

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