It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 58

When Literature Club vice president Ye Wanjia finished her last words as the host, the tightly shut doors of the lecture hall were pushed open, and the former student council president, Pei Suye, appeared among the crowd.

“My god! It’s Pei Suye.”

“I knew it. Their relationship is so close—how could she possibly miss such a big competition organized by the Literature Club?”

“I heard she went out of province for experiments.”

“Yeah, she had to travel. My senior is in the same lab with her. Our school doesn’t have that piece of equipment, so she had to go elsewhere to use it. Looks like she rushed back without stopping.”

“So touching! Eight hundred miles in a sprint, just to witness her girlfriend’s first event? That’s a level of ritual I could cry over for a lifetime!”

Pei Suye had indeed rushed back. After finishing her experiment, she caught the high-speed train at the very last minute, then took a taxi from the station back to campus, and finally biked to the lecture hall. Just before the event ended, she pushed open the door.

That day, Ye Wanjia had nestled into her shoulder and softly murmured: “What a pity, I wanted you to see it.”

She remembered those words.

How could she not want to see it?

Her little Yezi was wearing an elegant blue-and-white porcelain cheongsam, her long hair coiled into a bun, her grape-like eyes shining clear and bright. Standing on that stage, glowing like that—how could she not want to see it?

The newest update on Miss Pei and Miss Ye read:

“Perhaps busyness disrupts the rituals of life. We grow anxious, irritable, uneasy. We miss her first time on stage, her first performance, miss too much. We know life’s busyness is to blame, yet the heart still feels the loss. That is why, when you appear at the very last second, I finally understand the meaning of traveling under the stars.”

When the competition ended, the two sat hand in hand beneath the tung trees for a long while.

The streetlight cast its glow from behind, stretching before them two long shadows leaning together, while the trees swayed above.

“In the future, when you go to America, it’ll be even harder for us to meet,” Ye Wanjia said, tracing circles in the palm of her hand.

Pei Suye understood her worry and gently replied: “You could come too.”

“Me?” Ye Wanjia was first delighted, but then thought of her own circumstances. “I mean, I have my TOEFL score, but my major grades aren’t good enough. And studying abroad—it’s too expensive.”

Having served a year as student council president, Pei Suye was very familiar with exchange program documents. She explained:

“It depends on the program. If you apply for a good university’s graduate program, you can get scholarships. After tuition is deducted, there’s even a little left over for living expenses. For short-term programs—like the three-month one I joined in my sophomore year—the scholarship doesn’t cover everything, but when you return, you can apply for another scholarship, plus the Excellent Student Award. All together, it balances out.”

Ye Wanjia scratched at her thumbnail with her index finger, the sound—tick, tick—like small stones falling on desert ground.

“But scholarships must have really high grade requirements, right?”

That much was true. Pei Suye nodded. “Top three in the major.”

Then she leaned close to her ear, whispering: “You’re fifth now. You’ve got a real shot.”

“Really?” Ye Wanjia’s eyes lit up. “If I make top three, I can go abroad?”

Pei Suye nodded slowly, smiling with relief: “Actually, even top few can apply. But if you’re in the top three, you could apply to the Royal Veterinary College at the University of London, or UC Davis. They’re both world-class schools, and the chances of getting a scholarship are much higher.”

After hearing this, Ye Wanjia was completely moved. She popped up from her shoulder, eyes blazing with determination:

“Do you still have battery in your laptop?”

“Yes.” At this point, Pei Suye hadn’t quite caught her pace, but still obediently pulled the laptop from her bag. “Why?”

Ye Wanjia quickly opened the school library’s website. “To reserve a seat. Starting tomorrow—I’ll study hard.”

She booked a spot in the fourth-floor reading room, then logged out of her own account, logged into Pei Suye’s account, and pressed her to join:

“You too. Don’t think being second place is safe. The GPA rankings aren’t locked yet. You have to work hard too!”

She said this with such seriousness, eyes fixed on the screen, full of the spirit of a senior preparing for exams.

Her back faced the streetlight, her face glowed in the light of the laptop—light before and behind.

Back then, time was emerald green, full of life everywhere.

English broadcasting competitions, veterinary contests, exchange student meetings—no matter how small the improvement, she threw herself into it. Always with such energy. However exhausting yesterday had been, after a night’s sleep, she would start the next day’s struggle anew.

Studying abroad.

A year ago—even a week ago—Ye Wanjia had never dared to connect herself with that phrase. To be honest, when she first prepared for the TOEFL, it was only for scholarships.

Now, with Pei Suye’s encouragement, and because the person she loved had already taken that step, she was filled with endless motivation.

Because of all that busyness, sophomore year passed quickly.

By the end of the semester, Ye Wanjia had climbed from fifth place to third. If she could maintain that ranking, she too could study abroad for graduate school, just like Pei Suye.

Pei Suye officially received her offer from UC Davis.

But just before her departure, tragedy struck—her mother, Su Hongyue, had a relapse: her stomach cancer had spread.

It was summer break. Ye Wanjia was back in her hometown in the southwest, while Pei Suye was in Nanzhou. Thousands of miles apart, Ye Wanjia could still feel her grief.

“The doctor said… she’s no longer fit for surgery.”

The voice over the receiver was as fragile as thin paper, ready to tear with the slightest breeze.

Su Hongyue had been diagnosed with cancer before and had undergone several surgeries. For a while, her condition had been stable. But since last autumn, her health had been declining.

“I remember… Auntie was wearing that ink-painting dress that day. She looked so graceful.”

Ye Wanjia sighed.

Pei Suye’s voice had no strength. Each word was like sodden cotton sinking into the bottom of a well.

“She… had depression before. The doctor said depression weakens the body too. Maybe lately she’s been feeling worse emotionally, that’s why it got worse.”

Ye Wanjia’s heart ached. This was Pei Suye—the one who always stayed calm no matter how huge the storm, who always appeared untouchable.

“Suye, are you alright? I’ll come to Nanzhou tomorrow, okay?”

Even the strongest person needs someone close and trusted by their side in times of vulnerability. No matter how invincible she seemed, there were moments like this.

On the other end, silence. Like the screen had switched to a black-and-white silent film. A long, long pause—then a broken voice emerged:

“I want to see you.”

There were no more high-speed train tickets left, only a 24-hour hard-seat train ride. That very night, Ye Wanjia packed her bags. The next morning, she set off for the station.

Her own mother had suffered from uremia for years. Though not life-threatening, Ye Wanjia had often imagined what it would feel like if her mother suddenly left her. The helplessness, the despair.

“Jiajia, when you get there, comfort her well, alright? Speak kindly.”

Chen Meijuan saw her off at the station, her rough hands clutching her daughter, reluctant to let go.

“Mm. I know, Mom.”

Ye Wanjia waved, dragging her suitcase forward. Before entering the station, she looked back one more time. In the sea of people, her mother looked so thin, so frail. The thought of one day losing her made her chest ache.

She wasn’t even her biological daughter—yet the pain cut this deep. How much worse must it be for Pei Suye, mother and daughter bound by blood?

After a grueling 24-hour train ride, day turned to night and back to day again.

When she reached Nanzhou, she didn’t even return to campus. She left her luggage at a youth hostel and rushed straight to the hospital.

What she didn’t expect—what she traveled thousands of miles to meet—was the nightmare she’d never want to recall for the rest of her life.

“Ye Wanjia, let’s break up.”

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