It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 5

The beautiful exchange seminar was disrupted by an incident of voyeuristic upskirting. Under the student council’s call, the audience dispersed. In the now empty lecture hall, only four people remained—

Pei Suye, Ye Wanjia, the boy who had taken the photos, and the girl whose skirt had been targeted.

Gentle people are often given the nickname “A Gentle Blade.” Pei Suye was no exception.

The biggest reason was that someone as naturally warm as her usually gave people the feeling of spring drizzle. Yet, once her face sank, she didn’t need to glare—just the cold indifference in her eyes, so different from usual, was enough to make others feel the plunge from volcano to ice cellar, freezing them down to the spine.

Under such pressure, the boy had no choice but to unlock his photo album. Inside, besides the girl photographed that evening, were large numbers of secretly taken photos in other campus locations—some in the crowded cafeteria, some at stairway corners. Every shot was from below, aimed at the skirts of girls.

The faculty advisor, notified at once, hurried over. The boy was taken away with his phone confiscated. The victim expressed her gratitude to Pei Suye and Ye Wanjia before leaving with her roommate.

Thus, the incident was finally wrapped up. The follow-up would be left to the school authorities.

The vast lecture hall now held only two people. Empty and silent, it felt like a stage telling of fateful first encounters. Under the poetic light, the two remaining figures were like dancers in a performance, weaving a tender love story.

“Phew—”

Ye Wanjia sat down on the front-row desk, still shaken. Her elbows rested on her thighs, her head lowered, shoulder blades jutting under her T-shirt, limbs weak and numb.

Pei Suye stood a couple of steps away, her tall figure leaning against the sturdy black speaker.

Her eyes fell on those high-raised shoulder blades. Her usually gentle gaze paused.
“You were very brave.”

The words landed. Ye Wanjia stayed frozen, until three seconds later she suddenly looked up—only to realize there were just the two of them left. At once, a wave of awkwardness surged when facing this top senior student.

“Uh, uh… thank you, President.”

She quickly adjusted her posture, sitting upright. But then she thought it impolite to sit while the President was standing, so she hopped down to stand properly.

After military training her skin tone had improved, no longer pitch-dark, but gradually turning fairer, setting off her round eyes, clear as grapes.

Her cautious demeanor fell neatly into Pei Suye’s gaze. A playful curve tugged at the President’s lips.
“Am I that scary?”

“No!”

Ye Wanjia quickly denied. The sharp tongue she had used earlier against the voyeur suddenly turned clumsy. When she lifted her eyes, she found that the coldness Pei Suye had shown earlier was gone—replaced once again by warmth.

Perhaps because of the contrast, Ye Wanjia greedily felt that at this moment, Pei Suye seemed gentler than ever before—like moonlight.

Her fingers fidgeted meaninglessly with her shirt hem as she explained:
“Good thing you were here just now, or that guy would’ve run away. Unlike me, hehe… I only knew to rush forward and grab his phone. Kind of all brawn, no brain.”

Pei Suye’s gaze dropped, landing on those restless fingers twisting fabric. She reassured softly:
“You did very well already.”

Ye Wanjia’s grape-like eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Mm. In front of so many people, to have the courage to step up and protect your classmate—that’s very brave. Just, next time you act out of righteousness, be careful about your own safety.”

Ye Wanjia thought she meant when she fell while grabbing the phone. She laughed shyly.
“It’s nothing. He only shoved me a bit, and kind people pulled me back up. I’m fine.”

The “kind person” across from her lowered her head slightly, her tone firmer, gaze falling on her swollen ankle.
“I mean your foot.”

“My foot?” Ye Wanjia blinked, then looked down. Her ankle, in its sandal, was swollen high like an egg stuffed beneath the skin.
“My foot!”

Pei Suye sighed helplessly. “Do you have your campus card?”

“Huh?” Ye Wanjia patted the pocket of her shorts in a daze. “Yes.”

By nine o’clock at night the teaching building was nearly deserted. One by one the classroom lights went dark, leaving only a faint glow at each stairwell landing—narrowing the gap between life and death. The dim yellow lamps cast deep shadows, like the dramatic colors of a medieval European oil painting.

And into this oil painting, Pei Suye walked. The slanting light stretched her figure into a long silhouette. Her slate-blue long dress shimmered under the golden lamps like brushed with pigment, while her gray-brown curls framed her like flower petals. In that instant, elegance bloomed.

So beautiful…

Ye Wanjia panicked and tore her eyes away, her heart pounding wildly.

Hu… hu…

She tried deep breaths, but her heartbeat refused to calm. She snuck a glance at Pei Suye heading toward the bicycle parking lot, then quickly darted her eyes away.

Her slender fingers twisted the fabric at her side into a wrinkled lump, when suddenly a boy’s voice rang from ahead:

“Ye Wanjia.”

She looked up. It was a senior from Class 223. Word was, he played basketball. His oversized skull-print T-shirt, wide basketball shorts, tousled light-brown hair and headband gave him the air of carefree youth.

“Heard you played the hero tonight—impressive!”

This boy was Song Yang, vice-captain of the basketball team. Skilled, handsome, admired by many both in and outside the college. As the Student Life Minister once said, Ye Wanjia’s clumsy but cute personality, brimming with first-year vitality, was bound to attract seniors’ pursuit.

Song Yang was just that type—showing up here and there, pretending to “run into” her, striking up chats.

Ye Wanjia instinctively stepped back, forcing a polite smile.
“Not really, I just happened to see and reminded him.”

“Reminded?” The boy laughed. “I heard you even fought with him! How is it—are you okay?”

“Mm, I’m fine.”

“Then hop on, I’ll take you back to the dorm. It’s on my way anyway.”

“No, no need…”

Ye Wanjia bit her lip, uneasy. She felt nothing for Song Yang, so she couldn’t casually ride behind him. Besides, if classmates saw, rumors would spread in the morning, and explaining her “relationship” with him would be impossible.

Just as she was struggling for a way to refuse, Pei Suye approached on her bike. She stopped right in front, forming a neat equilateral triangle between the three of them.

“What’s wrong?” Pei Suye asked.

Song Yang grinned. “President, you’re here too? I just happened to pass by and thought I’d send the junior back to her dorm.”

The teaching building at nine o’clock was eerily quiet, the night wind rustling through leaves like old-time street gongs.

Pei Suye glanced at Ye Wanjia, saw her lips pressed tight, and decisively refused for her:
“She’s not going back to the dorm.”

“Then where?”

“She sprained her ankle. I’m taking her to the school clinic.”

“Then I’ll take her! Honestly, for us basketball players, trips to the clinic are routine—I know the doctors super well!”

Pei Suye’s elegant brows lifted slightly. Her gaze fixed on him, words drawn out:
“Don’t you basketball guys have practice coming up?”

“Well, yeah, tomorrow morning. But hey, taking a beauty to the clinic? Losing a little sleep’s nothing!”

“So much free time?”

“Loads!”

“Good.”

Pei Suye pointed toward the lecture hall.
“The Academic Department is moving equipment inside. If you’ve got free time, lend a hand.”

From “chivalrous senior” to “hauling laborer,” Song Yang was stunned. He froze for a good two seconds before his brain restarted.
“I, I…”

Pei Suye asked gently, “What’s wrong? Inconvenient?”

Cornered, Song Yang stammered, “No, I’ll… I’ll help out then.”

In barely a minute, the tall, strapping boy had disappeared from sight.

Ye Wanjia couldn’t help but admire Pei Suye’s social skill. When she came back to herself, she found the President gazing at her under the streetlamp glow, a strand of hair clinging to her lips, tousled softly by the breeze.

“Get on.”

Ding!

In the quiet of her inner world came a crisp sound, like wind kissing a wind chime.

Ye Wanjia clutched at her T-shirt hem, her voice soft and sticky:
“Thank you, President.”

She carefully swung herself onto the narrow metal seat at the back.

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