It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 52

From her freshman year onward, Pei Suye had been a campus celebrity.

Every year, the upperclassmen hosted a joke-filled “Most Popular Smile” contest. Despite being just a freshman, she took second place in the entire university’s public vote.

The main reason was that during her first-year sports meet, she won first place in the high jump thanks to her natural athleticism. From then on, the nickname “Leg Fairy” stuck firmly to her.

With her outstanding figure, excellent grades, and gentle, composed demeanor, she quickly attracted a large following of admirers on campus—regardless of gender.

Three years passed. After returning from an exchange program abroad, she carried not only her calmness but also a newfound maturity, making her shine even brighter. Even though she was already with Ye Wanjia, there were still people lining up, waiting for their turn to confess.

Today, one of them happened to be Zhao Jia.

“Pei Suye, happy birthday. This is a gift for you. I hope you’ll like it.”

The moment Pei stepped out of her dorm, Zhao Jia was already waiting at the door, presenting the gift with both hands.

Pei’s steps halted, then subtly retreated half a step. She fixed her gaze, offered a polite yet distant smile, but did not reach out to take it:

“Thank you, I appreciate the thought. But you don’t need to give me a gift. I already have perfume.”

Zhao Jia faltered. “But this is Chanel’s latest release. I’m sure you don’t have it yet. I worked several part-time jobs for months just to save up enough to buy it. Please, just accept it.”

Not only was it Chanel’s latest, it was also the special Valentine’s Day edition released on May 20th. Pei wasn’t foolish—she knew what Zhao Jia was implying.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept your kindness.” Pei’s tone was calm yet still left room for courtesy. “Since it’s such an expensive perfume, perhaps you could return it—or even better, give it to your parents. They’d surely be happy.”

Her words were as tactful as they could possibly be. Zhao Jia’s lips pressed tightly together. She lowered the hand holding the perfume bag, bitterness welling inside.

Although Pei had a gentle temperament, it didn’t mean she accepted everyone’s affections. She stepped aside with her long legs, concluding,

“Thank you, but I’m sorry.”

She bypassed the disheartened Zhao Jia, pressed the elevator button halfway down the corridor, eager to head downstairs and meet Ye Wanjia.

But just before the doors closed, Zhao Jia squeezed in. She didn’t speak nor make any further moves, just stood quietly, her chest faintly rising and falling, clearly building up to something.

Ding!

The elevator reached the ground floor. The countdown God gave her had run out.

“Pei Suye, are you afraid of being seen by Ye Wanjia?”

The quiet hallway amplified the question, echoing faintly to the end.

Tap.

Pei’s footsteps stilled, her leaf-green suede heels rooted to the floor. She gave no reply.

Behind them, the dorm supervisor auntie had just opened her door. From the gap, Ye Wanjia was clutching the doorframe. She had heard that question. Her heart thudded wildly, her fingers clenched the wood until they turned white, not daring to breathe.

Seen what?

Did Pei Suye hide something from her?

Zhao Jia stepped forward, continuing:

“You’re afraid that if you accept my gift and she sees it, she’ll get jealous. But it’s only a birthday present—I haven’t done anything else.”

Many people, in such a situation, would admit: “Yes, I’m worried my girlfriend would be jealous.” Some would even preemptively reject a gift with that excuse: If my girlfriend sees, I’ll never hear the end of it.

Using someone else as the reason to refuse was, deep down, a way of shifting responsibility.

Because those words implied: I actually want to accept it… but she won’t let me. And in doing so, the “girlfriend” became unfairly labeled as narrow-minded, petty, difficult.

Pei did not do that.

She looked Zhao Jia straight in the eyes, her words crystal clear:

“Between Ye Wanjia and me, there’s nothing we fear being ‘seen,’ because my conscience is clear. I appreciate your kindness, but this perfume is a Valentine’s edition. I can’t accept it. I have a girlfriend, and I have the responsibility to reject any gift that could cause misunderstanding.”

Even in rejection, she would not let Ye Wanjia bear the slightest shadow of doubt.

That carefulness, that tenderness—every girl could feel it.

Behind the door, Ye unconsciously bit her lip. The tightness in her chest loosened, warmth flooding through her heart.

Across the hall, Zhao Jia’s hopeful expression darkened. The perfume bag weighed on her hand like thousands of pounds. Driven by frustration, she blurted out the secret she had buried:

“You know I like you.”

Pei’s reply was cool as ice:

“I know. But I’m sorry.”

“I liked you long before she did! I’ve liked you for so, so long! Pei Suye, just tell me what I need to do so you’ll like me too, okay? Tell me what I’ve done wrong—I’ll change!”

Pei’s gaze remained indifferent, offering no room for delusion:

“Because I don’t like you, everything is wrong.”

A direct rejection—responsible both to Ye Wanjia and to Zhao Jia. Rather than offering false comfort like ‘If not for her, maybe I’d like you’—which would only breed false hope—it was better to cut the cord cleanly from the start.

Zhao Jia couldn’t bear it. She turned abruptly and ran upstairs.

Meanwhile, Ye finally released her grip on the door. The door shut on its own weight with a soft click, locking with a crisp snap.

In that instant, Pei, who had been walking away, slowed. She sensed something. She turned—and saw her.

Standing at the dorm supervisor’s doorway was that tall, slender figure in denim overalls, clutching her backpack straps, lip caught between her teeth as she held back her emotions.

Who else could it be but Ye Wanjia?

“Little Leaf?”

Pei was stunned. She had deliberately sent Ye Wanjia out to buy drinks, worried she might see Zhao Jia and be upset. How was she here?

Before she could ask, Ye Wanjia could no longer contain the tide of emotion. She rushed forward and threw herself into Pei’s arms.

“Senior.”

Her voice muffled against Pei Suye’s shoulder, soft and sticky, but brimming with love.

“I really like you… I like you so, so much.”

Pei was dazed for a moment, then felt the thundering heartbeat pressed against her chest. She smiled faintly, wrapped her arms around Ye Wanjia’s back, and answered gently:

“Mm, I know. I like you too.”

The tenderness in her voice seeped into Ye Wanjia’s ears, sending a wave of shivers through her. She whispered, lost in it:

“I like you even more than yesterday. Truly.”

If her soul had form, she would’ve been a fluffy cat right then—eyes squinting, lips pouting, rubbing herself against her beloved’s arms in a fit of spoiled affection.

Since they got together, the barrier of “senior and junior” had faded, and Ye Wanjia’s moments of coquettishness grew more frequent. Whenever that happened, Pei would tease her on purpose:

“Oh? Really? Could it be that I’ve been possessed by a fox spirit today and cast a spell on you?”

“Ugh!”

Ye Wanjia let go, laughing as she shot her a playful glare, her round eyes sparkling. She scolded sweetly:

“You’re so not serious!”

Smiling, Pei’s gaze softened. Her eyes dropped to Ye Wanjia’s lips, her expression turning a little more serious.

“You’re not wearing lipstick.”

“Huh?”

Ye Wanjia blinked in confusion, fumbling for her phone from her pocket.

“I did put some on! I woke up an hour early to do my makeup, I’m sure—mmph!”

Before she could finish, Pei lowered her head and kissed her, lips sealing hers.

The kiss was brief, but when Pei pulled back, her smile was full of indulgence. She whispered:

“Let me test my shade on you.”

And just like that, she earned herself one thoroughly blushing, thoroughly flustered Little Leaf.

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