It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 72

“Little Leaf, I love you.”

The gentle words melted into the tender night, like drops of red tea seeping into a napkin—silent, yet dyeing the white with red, painting it in romantic hues.

The door opened fully. The person outside stepped in, spreading her arms, and pulled the one inside into her embrace. For a moment, it was hard to tell the weight of it—too tight, and she might hurt her; too light, and she might lose hold of this hard-won love.

“Senior…”

Burying her face into her shoulder, Ye Wanjia’s lips moved against the fabric of the baseball jacket, calling out the title she hadn’t spoken for over five hundred days.

Strangely enough, “Senior” was the most ordinary title in college, yet between Pei and Ye, it carried a sweetness that belonged only to love.

In that instant, Ye Wanjia hugged Pei Suye tightly, her hands clutching at her back as if she wanted to crush her shoulder blades.

Her beautiful eyes closed, and crystal-like tears slid down, shimmering under the light.

She compromised with her own heart: “I never stopped loving you, not for a single day.”

And so, the ice shattered, torrents rushed eastward. Frogs leapt back into thawed ponds, tender leaves unfurled their first green of spring, larks broke free from their shells—after the long, harsh winter, everything blossomed into its best form.

The web novel Miss Pei and Miss Ye, which had ended in a tragic BE and left readers weeping like Meng Jiangnü, collapsing the Great Wall of the comments section, finally welcomed its second part.

And the very first line displayed most prominently in the novel’s blurb was a thought Ye Wanjia wrote in her diary on the day they reconciled—

【After drifting through half a lifetime, I’ve still decided to love you.】

At six in the morning, the blue-painted window frame bathed in the first rays of sunlight. The uneven paint surface resembled a breezy sea, with wave-like ripples giving it an old, retro charm. A round glass wind chime hung at the top, swaying with the nostalgia of the 1990s.

Ding-ling… ding-ling…

Amid the clear ringing, Ye Wanjia slowly woke from sleep.

Her eyes moved under thin lids, lashes lifting as hazy sleep lingered. What she saw was the green curtain fluttering in the morning wind and the wind chime swaying above the window.

Beautiful memories were stirred. She recalled last night—at the doorway of this very room, she and Pei Suye had held each other so tightly.

The fragrance of her hair seemed to return, her palms still held that warmth, as though she were holding a Greek goddess statue—and the statue embraced her back with equal strength.

A real embrace, with flesh, with warmth, with love.

Her lips curved upward, and then she reminded herself she was now a mature graduate student. Forcing it down, her lips straightened—though only barely—before springing back up again.

“Hee…”

Pulling the quilt up, she tried to hide that silly look on her face.

A few seconds later, the velvet quilt edged with lace lowered just enough to reveal her bright, smiling eyes. Like grapes, they sparkled as she darted a glance at the door. No sound outside.

Hmm… First day after we got back together. Should I make her a heart-shaped breakfast?

She checked her phone. Only six o’clock. An hour and a half before leaving—plenty of time.

Up!

She bounced off the bed, slipped into a linen knit top with a bottle-neck collar, and a black skirt with an irregular hem—shorter on the left, longer on the right, exuding casual elegance.

“Just you wait, little one. Watch how I win you over.”

Throwing the words at her reflection in the mirror, she squared her shoulders and opened her bedroom door.

The moment it opened, she froze—the opposite door stood wide open. Peeking out, she heard the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.

What? Pei Suye’s up this early?

Glancing down at her phone again—6:10.

She tiptoed forward, soft slippers making no sound on the wooden floor, moving toward the girl she loved.

Pei Suye was cooking breakfast.

She wore a checkered long dress with a brown apron in front, one hand holding an 8-inch steel bowl, the other whisking inside. The bowl rested against her stomach, making her slender waist bend slightly forward. From the side, her silhouette was framed by the morning light at the window—a graceful, flowing curve of waist and hip, a picture of feminine elegance.

“Ahem.” Ye Wanjia cleared her throat theatrically.

Pei Suye looked up at the sound. Their eyes met, her gaze softening, a smile spreading. “You’re up this early?”

“Mm.”

Ye Wanjia walked closer, swinging her arms in a mock chest-expanding exercise before wrapping them around her from behind. Resting her lips on her shoulder, she murmured softly:

“You’re up even earlier than me.”

Pei Suye turned, brushing her cheek against her forehead. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get up and bake you a cake.”

As she spoke, she poured the batter into cloud-shaped molds—four of them, no more, no less.

When she moved to place the tray in the oven, Ye Wanjia refused to let go, shuffling along with her in small steps, hugging her waist. Her voice was sticky-sweet:

“What flavor is it?”

“Peach. Once it’s done, I’ll add a little cream on top.”

“Huh?” Ye Wanjia tilted her head, short hair slipping down her shoulders. “I don’t remember you ever making this flavor when we were together before.”

The only peach she’d ever eaten from her was a peach cookie, not a cake.

Pei Suye pinched her nose lightly. “I learned it later. Don’t worry—it’ll be good.”

“Oh really?” Ye Wanjia scrunched her nose dramatically, giving a playful huff. “You better not be bragging.”

Suye’s brow arched, her pretty eyes tilting upward with confidence. “Of course not. I’ve made it 27 times. Trust me.”

What she didn’t say was that in the year they were apart, she lived in endless sorrow. When she wasn’t burying herself in the lab from dawn till dusk, she was baking cakes. Peach, matcha, chocolate—every flavor Ye Wanjia liked, she learned. But when the cakes came out of the oven, she’d sit before the full tray in silence.

No Ye Wanjia across the table. Only her own shadow.

Now, Ye Wanjia stood in front of her again—no longer cold, no longer distant, but smiling with eyes curved the way she used to.

So good.

When Ye Wanjia came out after washing up, Pei Suye sat at the dining table, chin propped in one hand, gazing at the four peach cakes. Her black hair fell loosely, some strands sliding forward. Freshly washed the night before, it was thick and fluffy, with one shorter lock slipping from her forehead to rest by her lips. Without makeup, her face was pure and serene, enough to make one’s heart itch.

“Well? How is it?”

As Ye Wanjia bit into the first one, Pei Suye’s eyes grew tense, as if her mouth were a grading machine for the college entrance exam.

Ye Wanjia kept a neutral expression as she bit down. The soft cake blended with the sweet cream, its fragrance filling her mouth. Light, refreshing, not greasy at all—deliciously sweet.

“Almost.” But that’s what she said.

Pei Suye blinked, a flicker of disappointment and unwillingness.

“Almost compared to what?”

Her answer came in the form of Ye Wanjia leaning closer, placing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips.

Chu!

The sound of lips brushing—soft, tingling, like a feather landing on a still lake, leaving ripples behind.

“Almost compared to you.”

Satisfied, Ye Wanjia giggled, leaning back and returning to her breakfast.

But Pei Suye enjoyed this sudden game. Just as Ye Wanjia opened her mouth to take another bite, she bent down, hooking a finger under her chin and reclaiming those lips.

“Mmm…”

Caught off guard, Ye Wanjia’s teeth parted, letting in the nimble tongue that swept across her sensitive palate. Her hand clenched the table, fingers turning white, trembling uncontrollably.

The kiss was messy, overwhelming. Two minutes later, Ye Wanjia pushed her back, panting, hands braced against her shoulders, chest rising and falling sharply.

“Okay, that’s enough. I still have to—mmph!”

Her words were cut off by another kiss.

Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting their entwined shadows on the ground. Outside, birds sang, while inside, broken murmurs of pleading escaped now and then.

“Pei… Pei Suye, I have… I have class today…”

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