It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 83

“Police! I’m calling the police!”

After the hysterical scream, the man who had fired the gun realized something was wrong. He turned toward the sound, and sure enough, the phone screen glowed, showing the numbers 911.

“Jack!”

From upstairs, the hostess rushed down, blocking her gun-wielding husband. “They met wild people!” she cried.

They were a young couple. Moments ago, the husband had rushed down with his gun, while the wife had been watching the real-time security footage.

Rewinding a little, she saw not far away that Pei Suye had been dragged into the bushes by three homeless men. She also saw Ye Wanjia racing in, smashing their window with a stick, trembling as she pulled out an egg-sized alarm.

And she saw that, after the gunshot, Ye Wanjia darted behind a tree like a rabbit, while Pei Suye, panicked and repentant, ran toward her from the distance.

Reckless. Fearless.

Two brave girls.

The woman silently affirmed this in her heart.

Bang!

The light in the living room snapped on. A tall American man, nearly 1.9 meters, stood at the shattered glass, holding a gun in one hand.

Beneath the pine tree, Pei Suye shielded Ye Wanjia behind her, making sure her own body completely covered her as she trembled out an explanation:

“We didn’t mean it! I promise!”

At the same time, the girl she was shielding raised her phone high above her head, repeating mechanically, already with tears in her voice:

“I’m calling the police!”

Twenty minutes later, police arrived at the house.

During that stretch of time, the two of them stayed frozen under the pine tree—Ye Wanjia pressed against the trunk, Pei Suye pressed against Ye Wanjia—neither daring to take a single step forward. Not even after the hostess had made her husband put away the gun and gestured for them to come inside.

Only when the police car appeared and uniformed officers stepped out, showing their badges, did the taut string across Pei Suye’s chest finally loosen.

Her vision blackened, blood began flowing again—and she collapsed.

“Senior! Senior!”

The last thing she heard before consciousness slipped away was Ye Wanjia’s panicked cry.

Bottlenecks in research, an encounter with the homeless, a bullet tearing past her ear—for the ordinary bits and pieces of life to add up to such a day, nothing could ever feel darker.

It was a nightmare, like a ghostly hand clawing its way from a black jar, twisted and grotesque, seizing Ye Wanjia’s throat and tearing her soul apart.

In dreams, people fall into a world made purely of consciousness. In hers, nightmares swarmed. She dreamt they hadn’t driven away the homeless men, dreamt Pei Suye was assaulted—her scream piercing, desperate, heart-rending. Fragile fingers dug into the grass, her beautiful face torn and bloodied.

And she, Ye Wanjia, cowered like a clown in the bushes, forced to watch it all unfold in terror.

“Ah!”

Snapping awake, Ye Wanjia shot up from bed, mouth open wide, forehead drenched in beads of sweat.

“Huff… huff…”

Her breathing was ragged, chest heaving painfully, eyes blank.

Buzz—

Her head rang with tinnitus. In her vision stretched a plain white wall, sliced into neat squares by black lines between bricks—so clean, so orderly, nothing like the tangled weeds in her nightmare.

The ringing faded. She was back in reality—it had just been a dream.

Rustle…

From her right came a soft breeze, followed by the sound of pages turning—light, delicate, yet falling into her blank vision like a touch of everyday grace.

She turned toward the sound.

There, half-reclined on a hospital bed, sat none other than Pei Suye.

She leaned calmly against the headboard in striped patient clothes, a book spread across her lap. Morning sunlight streamed in through the window, coating her in golden light. When she turned her head toward Ye Wanjia, strands of hair slipped from her shoulder, falling across her chest like a fine curtain.

Her gentle brows curved slightly, her serene eyes brimming with tenderness. Yet the scrape across her right cheek marred the dreamlike picture—like a blood-stained spiderweb drawn across her skin.

In that instant of eye contact, it felt like lovers reunited after decades apart, having survived smoke, war, disaster, and death itself—none of it weighing more than this single gaze.

“Little Leaf.”

She called her, just as always.

Ye Wanjia’s lips quivered, her throat bobbed, but no sound came. The next moment, her body obeyed her heart—she threw herself desperately into the bed, arms wrapping around Pei Suye’s shoulders, burying her face in her neck, clinging to every breath of proof that she was alive.

“Wu…”

A sound spilled from her throat, like a kitten’s cry—fragile, broken, pitiful, helpless, filled with fear and relief all at once.

Pei Suye understood she was still terrified. Truthfully, she herself was terrified too—terrified of that gunshot. If the bullet had struck Ye Wanjia instead of the tree… she dared not imagine.

But she had woken an hour earlier that morning, long enough to calm down, long enough to soothe her trembling kitten.

“It’s okay now.”

Her hand gently stroked the back of Ye Wanjia’s head, the other rubbed her spine, warming her, grounding her.

“It’s all over.”

“Wu…”

Nestled in her lover’s arms, Ye Wanjia finally let the fear ebb away. Her tears slipped free, shimmering like pearls in the morning light.

“I was so scared…”

Her sob was exactly like a newborn kitten—wounded, weak—just like the stray cheese kitten they’d once rescued, mewing for help.

Pei Suye’s own throat caught, her eyes reddened, and she tightened her hold.

“I was scared too,” she admitted. “If that bullet had hit you, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Ye Wanjia hit her back lightly, choking on her words as she scolded: “You say that, but you were terrified of the gun and still shielded me. What if that man had fired again?”

Pei Suye smiled, her gaze drifting toward the crystal gleam refracted through a glass vase. The corners of her lips lifted just as a tear slipped down: “That’s exactly why I had to stand in front of you.”

People sense danger differently—especially when it concerns the one they love.

Ye Wanjia thought being close to the gunshot was no big deal. Pei Suye thought outsmarting the homeless men was no big deal. Each cared far more for the other than themselves.

After a while, their emotions settled, and the tight embrace softened into tender closeness. Side by side, they lay together on the hospital bed, listening to each other’s breathing.

“But really,” Ye Wanjia asked, fiddling with a loose thread on Pei Suye’s sleeve, “how did you even run into them?”

Pei Suye lay on her back, recalling slowly: “I don’t know. They suddenly rushed out of the path, tripped my bike… it felt almost like they were waiting for me.”

“Waiting?” Ye Wanjia stiffened. “Could it be because you usually come home at this time, so they targeted you?”

Pei Suye frowned. “But there are lots of grad students who stay late. Why me? If they wanted money, I barely had any on me. Robbing me wouldn’t bring much profit.”

“Not much profit?” Ye Wanjia couldn’t believe her ears. She sat up and smacked her shoulder. “You’re this pretty, and alone—there are a thousand reasons they could hurt you! If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been another girl.”

Then, lowering her voice, she scolded: “This is the first time I’ve seen a victim arguing for victim-blaming logic.”

Seeing her upset, Pei Suye leaned over in appeasement, rubbing her cheek against hers with affection, coaxing:

“Little Leaf, that’s not what I meant.”

The endearment whispered against her skin melted Ye Wanjia’s defenses, sinking her into warmth. Her voice softened:

“Then… then what did you mean?”

Pei Suye continued, “I just meant—they didn’t have any tools. No rope, no tape, no weapons. Nothing to actually threaten me with.”

Ye Wanjia thought back to their size. “But even without tools, they were so big, so tall. That alone is threatening!”

As she spoke, she realized something didn’t add up. If they only wanted money, they could’ve let her go after. But they hadn’t—they’d dragged Pei Suye into the bushes, clearly planning worse.

If it was kidnapping, they’d need rope and tape. If it was assault, they’d need a more secluded spot—just a kilometer further into the park.

The two mulled it over. Then Pei Suye voiced the strangest contradiction:

“They had no tools, so it looked like it was spur-of-the-moment. But the way they waited at that exact spot on the path—it was like they knew my routine.”

At that, Ye Wanjia finally understood. A more terrifying thought rose in her mind:

“You mean… they might have been sent by someone. And that someone could be… someone we know from the lab?”

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