It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 68

“Does your hand still hurt?”

Pei Suye’s voice was the same as before—light, soft, like a breeze brushing over the velvet of a swan’s feather.

Ye Wanjia moved her thumb a little, lifted it up for a look, and said, “Oh, it’s fine now. Just a tiny spot left.”

“Let me see.”

Pei Suye reached out, gently lifted her hand closer. Indeed, the place where her thumb had once bled had already healed, though a faint black mark remained. Who knew when it would fade? Perhaps, like some things in life, it would stay imprinted forever, never to disappear.

“That…”

Heat traveled from finger to finger, like a faint current running through her veins. Her fingers trembled, stiffly pulled away, her lips murmuring:

“It’s pretty much healed.”

The sudden touch, the sudden withdrawal, the sudden flood of memories surging like a tidal wave.

The air froze for an instant—the fireflies ceased to flit about, the night breeze halted mid-drift. Everything came to a standstill.

A moment later, Pei Suye’s voice broke the silence, like cracking through a sheet of ice:

“Ye Wanjia, I want to ask… can we still be friends?”

Ye Wanjia froze, saying nothing. The motion of chewing slowed, her eyes fixed on the steak before her, unsure how to respond.

Pei Suye looked at her lowered lashes, and continued slowly:

“What happened before… yes, it’s a pity. But didn’t you also say that we should look forward?”

Her lips curved. Though tinged with bitterness, it was more of a release—finally speaking something that had long been held back.

“When I found out you got your offer, I was really happy. At the time, Professor Li was arranging your dorm, and I actually had an empty room. But I was afraid you wouldn’t want to live with me, so I didn’t apply for you to move in. Now, because of Alma, we have no choice but to share a place. I think maybe this is the time to ease things between us. We’re both studying abroad, both in Davis, under the same roof, so… why not try being friends?”

Her voice was like a bowl of water placed under the sun—surface calm, yet reflecting a warm golden glow.

Ye Wanjia often said, if you didn’t go into veterinary medicine, you could have been a negotiator. Whatever you say, people unconsciously agree.

Time ticked away, the clock marking their silence—perhaps five seconds, perhaps five minutes. Finally, Ye Wanjia let out a long breath, as if loosening the mud clogging a valley stream, carried away to flow freely.

“Alright.”

She looked at Pei Suye, gaze open and steady. Yet beneath that calm surface, hidden in depths no one could see, there were still ripples.

“Now I just… don’t really know what to do.”

It was midnight. In China, it was just afternoon. Ye Wanjia called Wei Xiaoxiao and recounted the past few days.

Wei Xiaoxiao patiently listened to every detail, then gave her bluntest impression:

“But I think… she still likes you.”

“Maybe.” Ye Wanjia leaned back against the headboard, fingers idly plucking the lace trim of the blanket. “That day when she walked me back to the dorm, she did say… if I was willing, we could still be together.”

“And you?” Wei Xiaoxiao pressed the question she cared most about. “Do you still like her?”

“Haa…” Ye Wanjia exhaled heavily, her gaze drifting toward the pitch-black window. Her mind felt just as dark—nothing clear, nothing visible. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know” wasn’t the same as “I don’t like her.”

The truth was, she still did—but couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

Wei Xiaoxiao thought for a moment, then said: “Ye Wanjia, sometimes you don’t need to be so rational. Try following your heart first. Love is about feeling. If you think too logically, you can’t love properly.”

It made sense. Love was about emotion. Since it was emotion, it wasn’t code, nor a mathematical formula—it was something irrational, something uncontrollable, fermenting wildly in space.

Ye Wanjia sank into thought, but still couldn’t give herself a clear answer. She gave up, changed the subject:

“How are you and Xiaoyu?”

Xiaoyu—Jiang Shiyu, the genius from dorm 617, admitted to the Royal Veterinary College in London. Also, the girlfriend Wei Xiaoxiao had been with since freshman year until senior year.

“We broke up.”

Wei Xiaoxiao’s voice was calmer than expected—nothing like the girl who cried to Ye Wanjia all night over the phone a month ago.

“There’s no chance to fix it?” Ye Wanjia felt it was a pity.

“No.” Wei Xiaoxiao gave a wry smile. “She’s just… really proud, I guess. Her tuition abroad is 300,000 yuan. My mom offered her the money, but she refused—insisted on mortgaging her house for a loan. You know my temper, I’m quick to anger, so words sometimes come out sharp. Anyway, it just… ended up like this.”

“Xiaoxiao,” Ye Wanjia’s mood sank with hers. “But you loved her so much.”

“Love doesn’t help.”

Her lashes lowered. With a sigh, she said:

“Before, I thought love was everything. Even if she didn’t like me, I could still throw myself into it, not caring about anything else. But… honestly, love is pretty worthless.”

Ye Wanjia asked softly: “If she wanted to get back together, would you?”

“No.” Wei Xiaoxiao was crystal clear. “Because she never takes initiative. Everything she does is carefully calculated—never impulsive, never led by feeling. That’s why I said, extreme rationality makes for a terrible relationship.”

The call lasted half an hour. When it ended, Ye Wanjia sat dazed on her bed for a long time, staring blankly out the window.

Outside, rain began to fall—soft, steady, even. In her heart rose a quiet voice: maybe, once tonight’s rain has passed, the clouds lingering in the sky will scatter.

And tomorrow—perhaps the sun will break through.

The next day was Sunday, no work in the lab.

Ye Wanjia woke early to work a shift at the coffee shop in town. She thought about asking Pei Suye if she wanted anything—milk tea, maybe snacks—but her bedroom door was tightly shut.

At first, she thought Pei Suye was just tired and sleeping in. But when she returned in the evening, she realized it was more serious—

She had a fever.

In Ye Wanjia’s memory, Pei Suye never really got sick. The most serious was once—tonsillitis. Never like today, burning up, sitting weakly on the bed, eyes half-shut as if even looking at someone was an effort.

Standing at the doorway, Ye Wanjia’s eyes brimmed with concern: “I’ll go buy you some medicine. Besides the fever, where else hurts?”

Pei Suye slumped on the bed, long hair draping down, lips pale. She tried to smile, but only barely managed a faint curve:

“No need. I already ordered medicine online. It should arrive soon.”

Rejected, Ye Wanjia felt a stab of discomfort. Looking up, she saw Pei Suye barely able to open her eyes. She compromised:

“Then I’ll cook some porridge for you.”

Pei Suye’s voice was weak, but she still said: “It’s okay. I already made some earlier—it’s in the rice cooker, it’s ready.”

“Then I’ll get you a bowl.”

“No need to trouble yourself. Once I rest a bit, I’ll get up.”

“No need, it’s fine.” Words Pei Suye always used—but words Ye Wanjia hated most.

Finally, frustration broke out. Leaning against the doorframe, her tone sharpened with reproach:

“So you just have to do everything yourself? Can’t let anyone help at all?”

Pei Suye blinked at her, dazed, but saw only the sway of the doorframe and Ye Wanjia’s back disappearing into the kitchen.

A minute later, Ye Wanjia came back with a bowl of porridge, set it on the nightstand. She stirred it vigorously, cooling it while venting her own irritation.

“You’re always like this.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried reproach. Eyes fixed on the mushy porridge, she went on:

“Whenever something happens, you just want to solve it alone. If you can’t, you run away. You never ask for help, never make requests of others. Don’t you realize how painful that is for the people around you? It feels like your life is ten thousand miles away—no matter how hard we try, we can’t be part of it. Do you really think that’s being kind to others?”

She had finally voiced it—the true reason she hadn’t reconciled with Pei Suye yet, the thorn buried deep in her heart.

But so what? That was just who Pei Suye was. She never asked for anything—that habit had been there for over twenty years. How could it change overnight?

“Forget it. Even if I say this, you’ll still—”

“—Can you hug me?”

The words were soft, interrupting her, like a breeze brushing past the balcony, faint and blurred—yet real.

Ye Wanjia froze, unsure if she’d heard right. She looked over with puzzled eyes:

“What did you say?”

Pei Suye gazed at her quietly. In the lamplight, her skin was porcelain pale. Her lips moved again, faintly: “Can you hug me?”

This time, Ye Wanjia heard every word. She quickly averted her eyes, rubbed her nose awkwardly.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Pei Suye tilted her head slightly, a familiar look of indulgence returning. Slowly, she said:

“Didn’t you say I should make requests? This is my only wish right now.”

But it wasn’t a request.

What she wanted was Ye Wanjia’s initiative—an embrace given freely. That kind of hug was never just a request.

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