It Seems Like My Senior Seems to Like Me - Chapter 97

In just two years, her parents’ temples had turned completely white. Her mother especially—years of illness had aged her rapidly. Her face was deeply lined, swollen with the pallor of sickness.

Even in such frailty, she still insisted on taking a forty-minute ride in an open tricycle to the bus station to meet her daughter.

The moment Ye Wanjia turned around, both sides froze in awkwardness.

On one side, there was worry—had that kiss just now been seen?

On the other, hesitation—how should one act in order to pretend nothing had been witnessed?

“Jiajia.” All emotions paled in the face of two long years of yearning.

Chen Meijuan hobbled toward her, while Ye Wanjia ran forward in small steps.

“Mom.”

Even at twenty-seven, Ye Wanjia never changed “Mama” into the shortened “Mom.” In front of her mother, she would always be a little girl.

Chen Meijuan seized her hand with trembling fingers, her eyes quivering along with her voice:

“Let me take a look at you—ah, you’ve lost weight, thinner again! Last time on video you looked fuller. Is work too busy? Did your boss pile too many tasks on you?”

“No, no,” Ye Wanjia said quickly, holding those cracked, dried hands and rubbing them warm. “You’re the one who’s lost weight. Didn’t you take the supplements I sent? And that medicine—after every dialysis, you must take it.”

“I did, I did,” Chen Meijuan’s eyes reddened. “That protein powder you bought, there’s just too much. Last month when I went to see your aunt, I gave her a can. Otherwise I couldn’t finish it all.”

Wanjia scolded softly: “I bought that for you. How could you give it away? The shelf life is so long, it won’t expire.”

“I know, I know, our Jiajia is the most filial. But your aunt is pitiful too, run over by a truck, leg broken, can’t leave the house anymore. We’re relatives—back when we were struggling, she often brought us meat. We should help each other.”

“Then I’ll buy her some separately. The ones for you, you’re not allowed to give away again.”

“Alright, alright.”

Health, work, relatives—between mother and daughter, the conversation never escaped these three topics.

Ten steps away, Pei Suye sat quietly on the oversized suitcase, watching the scene. It was something she envied, and something she could never have. Since the year she graduated college, when her mother had passed away, she had been deprived of this family warmth.

When the mother and daughter finally finished speaking, Ye Wanjia drew a deep breath and cautiously took a step forward.

“Mom, let me introduce someone to you.”

She turned, pointing toward Pei Suye in the distance.

“This is Pei Suye.”

Unlike with her uncle, she didn’t explain Suye’s identity. Partly, she wanted to show that Suye was no ordinary friend. Partly, she wanted to see her mother’s reaction—whether that kiss had been noticed.

“Oh, oh.”

Chen Meijuan’s expression stiffened, but she nodded politely. Ahead, Pei Suye had already stood up from the suitcase, walking quickly and humbly toward them, smiling.

“Hello, Auntie. I’m Pei Suye, Wanjia’s senior from university.”

Gentle as always, she didn’t want to make Wanjia feel awkward, so she introduced herself with that distant identity.

Clumsily, Chen Meijuan lifted her hand in greeting, forcing a passable smile.

“Hello, hello. A senior from university? Then you’ve known each other for many years?”

Despite lingering motion sickness, Pei Suye carried herself gracefully, determined to leave the best impression.

“Yes, many years. Wanjia is a wonderful person. All her friends are long-time ones—I’m just one of them.”

Chen Meijuan nodded cautiously. “Oh, I see… Then, then what brings you here during the New Year?”

Pei Suye smiled: “I just happened to have some business nearby. On the way I ran into Wanjia, so I came along with her.”

Skeptical, Chen Meijuan’s eyes flicked toward the luggage—only Wanjia’s suitcases and backpack, plus two gift bags of New Year goods.

“And your luggage?” she asked.

Wanjia’s lips pressed tight, panic rising. Of course Suye hadn’t brought any luggage—she had only planned to escort her to the airport.

If the questioning went further, it would soon be clear Suye had come all this way just for her.

Fortunately, Suye reacted quickly. Perhaps it was her years abroad, dealing with strangers often. Or perhaps, she just wanted desperately to leave a good impression.

“I’m heading back tomorrow morning, so I didn’t bring anything.”

Each probing question was neatly parried. Holding her doubts, Chen Meijuan chose not to press further, only nodding along.

At that moment, Wanjia’s father waved them over, hurrying forward.

“Wife, let’s go, or we’ll get fined.”

He meant their open tricycle—the one they usually used for their small stall, which today had carried them through the winter wind forty minutes just to meet their daughter.

Chen Meijuan immediately tugged Wanjia firmly, as if afraid someone would take her daughter away.

“Yes, yes, let’s hurry before they ticket us, it’ll cost money!”

Wanjia instinctively pulled back, the bones of her wrist jutting sharp enough to sting her mother’s palm.

“But the luggage—”

She cast one reluctant glance at Suye—they hadn’t even said a proper goodbye.

Suye pressed her lips together. She knew her little leaf didn’t want to part, but with her parents there, they couldn’t act like lovers.

“Then take your things and go with Uncle and Auntie. It’ll get cold tonight.”

“Yes,” Chen Meijuan echoed, “Huá, you help Jiajia with the suitcase. Don’t keep her senior waiting.”

Suye smiled graciously. “It’s no trouble, Auntie. Please just call me Xiao Pei.”

There was no choice. Wanjia hoisted her backpack again. Even walking slowly, the straps couldn’t turn into eight—left and right, she had to wave goodbye.

She lifted her eyes, then lowered them again. “Then, I’ll go first.”

“Mm.” Suye nodded, her gaze softening. “Go home early.”

Then, unable to stop herself, she added, “Happy New Year.”

Back in Davis, they had spent several New Years together. It was habit now.

With her parents nearby, Wanjia dared not show much emotion. She only bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

“Once you’re settled at the hotel, send me a message.”

“I will.”

Wanjia picked up the two red gift bags—New Year goods Suye had bought for her parents.

Turning to face them, she forced a smile, dimples shallow on her cheeks, though her eyes lacked true joy.

It had been long since she last came home—there was happiness, yes, but tinged with regret.

Her father noticed nothing, focused only on their tricycle parked at the edge of a fine. Hunched over, he dragged the suitcase briskly ahead.

Wanjia carried her heavy pack, the gift bags quickly taken from her by her mother, who limped along more slowly, falling behind her father’s pace.

Almost at the exit, her mother suddenly stopped, turned back to the graceful figure in the crowd, and called out:

“Xiao Pei—why don’t you come stay with us? Our home may be old, a bit shabby, but it’s still better than a hotel. It’s Spring Festival—chaotic everywhere. For a young girl alone, it’s not safe.”

Even if she doubted their relationship, even if she couldn’t comprehend why two women would share a kiss so intimate—

In that moment, maternal instinct won out. She couldn’t rest easy letting Pei Suye, in this strange city, spend the night alone in a hotel.

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