It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 82

That day was especially dark—gloomy, heavy, obscure.
The night sky was drenched in black ink, thick clouds pressing down like a suffocating shroud.

Blotting out the heavens.

On the west side of Davis, along Lemon Road, a shaded path stretched into the distance.
Gripping a solid baseball bat, Ye Wanjia crept into the deepest part of the bushes, peering through the shrubs to observe the scene on the other side.

There, Pei Suye was surrounded by three homeless men.

They had her trapped between their tall bodies. A fresh gash stretched across her right cheek—half the length of a finger, crimson red—caused when she had been forced off her bike.

Her laptop bag lay discarded on the ground. Her long, waist-length hair was a tangled mess. Her jacket bore several smudges of dirt, and her shoulders still showed the filthy marks of their hands.

Clearly, she had first been ambushed, knocked from her bicycle, then dragged here against her will.

“So pretty!”

The three men—two Black, one white—exchanged looks and burst into lewd laughter.

“I don’t think taking money is a good deal.”

The white man gave a vulgar whistle and signaled to the others.

One of the Black men stepped forward, looming over the petite Asian woman whose delicate face barely reached his chest.

“Girl, shall we play a game?”

Among children, “play a game” is innocent.
But from the mouths of grown men with sinister intent, the phrase dripped with filth—“playing” became “having some fun,” just like the thugs in TV dramas taunting helpless women with, “Come on, keep us company.”

The man’s long, tangled hair fell over his face like burlap. His breath reeked as it poured from his mouth.

Disgusting.

In the bushes, a surge of brute force rushed through Ye Wanjia’s veins. She gripped the bat tightly, nearly rushing out to smash it down on the man tormenting Pei Suye.

But reason stopped her.

More precisely—it was the shaft of moonlight falling across Pei Suye’s face, illuminating her calm expression, that stopped her.

Yes—even here, hemmed in by three vagrants in the dead of night, even in a foreign land, even teetering at the edge of the abyss—she still clung to logic and reason, searching for a way to survive.

Under the pale moonlight, she slowly lifted her head, forcing her voice to remain steady with all her strength:

“How much do you want?”

“Haha!” The man gave a grotesque laugh, his fetid breath fouler than a dumpster. He bent down, bracing beast-like arms on his knees, leaning closer until his face nearly touched hers, and whispered:

“How much do you think you’re worth?”

The air froze for three seconds.
In those three seconds, Ye Wanjia’s breath stopped. Her hands shook so violently around the bat they rattled like a sieve.

Wei Xiaoxiao had already called the police, but it would take time for them to arrive. She couldn’t just watch Suye suffer.

She had to think of something. There had to be a way!

Suddenly—flash!—a spark lit in her mind. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her keychain. Hanging from it was the self-defense alarm Pei Suye had given her years ago.

Raising her eyes, she spotted a house fifty meters away.

Clothes hung drying on the balcony. Someone lived there.

A daring idea struck her. Risky—but their best option.

Meanwhile, Pei Suye, relying on her steady mind and the sharp logic honed through endless days of experiments, began her final negotiation with the men. Her words bought Ye Wanjia the time she needed.

“If I just lose a little money, it doesn’t matter. But if I get hurt, I’ll go to the hospital for an exam. The doctors will extract DNA from the tissue you leave on me. Once it matches, it becomes evidence. You’ll be looking at more than five years in prison. Of course, if I die, you’ll be facing life or even the death penalty.”

No sooner had she finished than—crash!

Fifty meters away, the ground-floor window of that house shattered.

Wooo—wooo—wooo—

The piercing shriek of an alarm ripped through the black sky.

Wooo—wooo—wooo—

Pei Suye knew that sound.

It was the alarm she had once given Ye Wanjia, back when a man’s harassment had left her too afraid to leave home.

She remembered how Wanjia, curious about the egg-sized device, had once yanked out the plug, only to unleash its deafening wail that drew every eye in the vicinity.

They had both scrambled in panic to shove the stopper back in.

Who could have known—years later—the gift she had given to protect Ye Wanjia would come full circle and save her instead.

“Well,” Pei Suye arched an eyebrow, feigning ease, “looks like someone noticed.”

The smashed window and alarm startled the homeowner. Moments later, a booming male voice roared from inside:

“Fuck! You’re in my house! Dead meat!”

The voice was deep, rough, powerful—the unmistakable bark of an American tough guy.

The three homeless men froze. They dared not linger. If they crossed a local, they could be in serious trouble.

Throwing a final threat—“Say one more word and you’re dead”—they bolted into the night.

The next second, Pei Suye collapsed to the ground. The calm and composure she had forced up to now crumbled away.
No matter how strong her heart was, her strength only carried her this far.

Her body pitched forward, nearly flat against the ground, palms pressing into the prickling grass. Her lungs seared with tearing pain. Her mouth gaped wide, gasping for air.

Bang!

Another explosion split the night.

This time it wasn’t glass, nor the alarm. It was a gunshot—because in America, when intruders trespass on private property, citizens may legally shoot in self-defense.

And the one closest to the house—was none other than Ye Wanjia.

“Xiao Yezi…”

The words broke from her lips in a ragged whisper. Summoning the last of her strength, she staggered up and half-crawled, half-ran desperately toward the villa.

“No—!”

Her steps stumbled. The night’s black mist closed in around her like a reaper, smothering her in endless darkness and dread.

Pei Suye would never forget the chill that shot from scalp to toes when she heard that gunfire—the way her legs moved mechanically, scalp prickling, blood turning to ice.

When at last she reached the house, she saw:

At the shattered window, the bullet had embedded itself in a pine tree.
Behind the tree, frail little Ye Wanjia raised her phone with the alarm screen flashing, shouting at the top of her lungs:

“Good person! I’m a good person! Police! Police! I’m calling the police!”

She was terrified. She was trembling.
She was the timid girl Pei Suye had always shielded, the one she couldn’t bear to let suffer even the slightest hurt.

Yet that night—through the terror and the darkness—she had charged forward, throwing herself between danger and Pei Suye.

At that moment, Pei Suye was ready to die for her.

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