It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 92

Time passed quickly in graduate school.

Unlike during undergrad, there were no endless activities, competitions, or student clubs. The thing most people talked about was research projects.

Pei Suye threw herself into research almost obsessively. Sometimes in the middle of the night, while she was asleep, her mind would suddenly light up with an idea. She would immediately get out of bed, open her computer, and design an experiment.

Sometimes it only took an hour or two. Sometimes she would stay up all night, as if exhaustion never touched her.

By comparison, Ye Wanjia didn’t invest quite as much energy into research.

As long as she completed the weekly tasks assigned by her advisor, she would carve out time to write her novel.

“Taking a break from research and plotting a story makes my brain more flexible. Sometimes, what you can’t figure out after a whole night in the lab, I can figure out just by writing a chapter.”

That was what she always said.

Fortunately, both of their efforts paid off.

Pei Suye’s new drug won a patent in her second year, while Ye Wanjia managed to get in touch with an editor from a Taiwanese publishing house and successfully signed a contract to publish Miss Pei and Miss Ye.

The first batch of royalties she received was enough to cover two full years of tuition.

Life was like spring rain—you saw it falling fine and sparse, drop by drop, and before you knew it, a whole pond had filled up.

It didn’t roar like summer thunder, nor did it blaze like autumn leaves, nor shine with the austere purity of winter snow. Life was casual, with stumbles, fluctuations, and trifles. One person’s fragments of daily life could be pieced together into a wreath; two people’s fragments could be woven into the ropes of a swing, rising and falling together, sharing the views of both heights and lows.

Soon, their two-year master’s journey was coming to an end.

After her 24th birthday, Ye Wanjia put on her sky-blue graduation gown and successfully graduated.

Graduation came with both joy and worry.

The joy was in having finally earned the degree after two years of hard work.

The worry was in stepping into society—and the fact that Pei Suye hadn’t graduated yet.

“Wanjia, listen to me, you absolutely cannot go back to China early. You have to wait for Senior Sister to graduate.”

On the phone, Wei Xiaoxiao earnestly persuaded her:

“Long-distance is bad enough, cross-country is even worse—it’s bound to cause big problems.”

At the time, Pei Suye was still in the lab working. Ye Wanjia was sitting alone in the little courtyard where the bicycles were kept, swinging absentmindedly on the swing.

“But, Senior Sister is only in her second year of her PhD. At Davis, a doctorate takes at least four years.”

She lowered her head, her voice dull. “If I wait for her, that means waiting two more years. Wouldn’t that be a waste of my time?”

Wei Xiaoxiao thought about it and tried to suggest, “Then… why don’t you do a PhD too?”

“I won’t.”

Ye Wanjia had thought it through carefully. She knew exactly what she wanted, so her stance was firm:

“A PhD is too much pressure. Besides, I think a degree is just something that can help me get a good job. That’s enough. The rest of my time, I want to do things for myself.”

Things like writing novels, following dance videos to practice cheerleading moves, or suddenly deciding to hop on a bike and take a ride.

To devote oneself wholeheartedly to research without reservation—that was something only people like Pei Suye, who truly loved it, could do.

“Well, that works out, doesn’t it?”

As an outsider, Wei Xiaoxiao was more relaxed about it. “These two years, you can just keep writing your novels. You’re writing in the U.S. anyway—writing back in China would be the same. Even if the books don’t sell, even if the royalties aren’t enough, Senior Sister’s doctoral stipend is plenty for both of you to live on.”

“But novels are just a side job.”

Sometimes, Ye Wanjia’s clarity was sharper than anyone’s.

“Now that I’ve graduated, I need a real career. How could I just stay home all the time? And besides…”

Besides, Pei Suye would never let her give up her own career.

Just like she once said back in undergrad when they first dated—you can fight for someone, but never give up for someone.

If she gave up job opportunities in China and idled away two years in America, missing her golden years for employment, Pei Suye wouldn’t accept it.

But if she went back to China now, then she and Pei Suye would be separated for at least two years. And this “separation” wasn’t just being in different cities—it was being on opposite sides of the world.

“Wanjia.”

Hearing what she meant, Wei Xiaoxiao’s voice dropped, carrying the bitterness of someone who had lived through it herself.

“I know you have your own ambitions. You want a career, to be independent. But have you thought about it? Cross-country relationships aren’t easy. Back then, Jiang Shiyu and I were so in love. But the moment she decided to go abroad, we fell apart.”

Her relationship with Jiang Shiyu was like a knife lodged in her chest—she rarely spoke of it, but that day she did. All because she was afraid her best friend would repeat her mistake.

Ye Wanjia lowered her lashes, quietly listening to her voice from the phone.

“A cross-country relationship isn’t just being apart. Even if you suddenly want to see each other, you’d have to cross the ocean on a ten-plus-hour flight. Maybe you two really love each other, maybe you’re more determined than any TV drama couple. But have you thought about this—when you’ve just started working, and she’s in the critical final two years of her PhD, you’ll face lots of problems, difficulties, moments of sadness and helplessness. And in those times, when you need her most, she won’t be there. That kind of pain, Wanjia—it’s unbearable.”

Once is one thing. But twice, three times, countless times—until your desire to share becomes nothing more than a sigh, and the distance of overseas calls slowly wears down the bond you can’t sustain.

“You and Senior Sister already broke up once because of studying abroad. Now you’ve finally gotten back together. I don’t want to see you lose it again just because of distance. Relationships depend on choice and effort. The more precious they are, the more they need to be maintained.”

That last sentence struck Ye Wanjia. Her beautiful eyes trembled slightly, reflecting the glow of the sunset.

Wei Xiaoxiao was right—love wasn’t just about “good morning” and “good night,” it needed tending.

When Pei Suye came home, the sun was half-set on the horizon, like a salted duck egg at the Dragon Boat Festival. She wheeled her bike to the gate of the courtyard, reached for her keys, but noticed the door wasn’t locked. Tilting her ear, she heard Ye Wanjia’s voice from inside. It sounded pained, as if she was troubled by something:

“I don’t want to break up with Senior Sister. But I also don’t want to waste two years of my life…”

She knew—her Little Leaf was stuck in a dilemma.

But in matters as major as life choices, she, as her partner, wasn’t really qualified to interfere.

She too wanted to be with Little Leaf every day. At the same time, she wanted Little Leaf to chase the career she was good at, to shine in the workplace.

She had full confidence that in the next two years, even long-distance, her love would remain unchanged, steady as ever. But… could Little Leaf accept such a relationship?

If Little Leaf stayed in America, spending her days writing at home, letting her prime career years slip by—she couldn’t allow it.

But if Little Leaf resolutely returned to China, even breaking up with her over it—her heart would shatter.

How could there be a way to satisfy both—betray neither her love nor her fate?

When a couple faced a problem together, they were often tacitly in sync: they would each think it over alone for a few days.

During those days, they pretended nothing was wrong—eating, washing up, sleeping. The lighter their faces seemed, the heavier their hearts weighed.

On the fifth day, Pei Suye decided to clear away what was blocking their chests. After dinner, she suggested they take a walk.

“Little Leaf, why don’t we talk?” she said.

Once before, they lost two years because they didn’t explain, didn’t confess, didn’t discuss. Pei Suye didn’t want to stumble into the same river again.

Neither did Ye Wanjia.

She readily agreed: “Perfect, I have something to tell you too.”

Her steps faltered for a moment, her foot numb before she moved toward the hallway. But her heart thumped heavily—because in her mind appeared Ye Wanjia’s face, already set with determination.

So in the end… had she decided to go back to China after all?

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