Beijing's autumn rain came down like it had a personal grudge.
Wang Lin hurried out of the university gate, his sketchbook clutched under his arm, hoodie pulled low over his face. The sky had been clear just twenty minutes ago when he left the art studio. Now it was pouring — cold, relentless sheets of water that soaked through his thin sneakers in seconds.
He hated rain. Hated how it made everything louder, wetter, more chaotic. Hated how the crowds at the gate pressed closer under the awning, phones out, voices rising.
And he hated — most of all — the eyes.
"That's him… the Little Snow Bunny from the art department!"
"Quick, take a photo! He's so cute when he's scared."
Wang Lin's steps faltered. His heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird. He tried to shrink smaller, shoulders hunching, head down — but at 158 cm, with his porcelain skin and soft violet eyes, hiding was impossible.
A girl stepped closer, phone already raised. "Hey, cutie! Smile for us~"
He flinched. Backed up. Tripped over someone's bag. The sketchbook slipped from his arms, pages fluttering open in a puddle.
"No—" His voice cracked, small and broken.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Aw, he's gonna cry."
"Look at him tremble. So pathetic."
Tears welled up before he could stop them. Hot, shameful, mixing with the rain on his cheeks. He crouched down, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to make himself invisible.
The crowd didn't leave. Phones stayed up. Whispers turned to giggles.
Wang Lin squeezed his eyes shut. "Please… stop…"
He didn't know how long he stayed like that — seconds? Minutes? — when a pair of heels clicked sharply through the puddles.
The laughter died.
Wang Xiaoyun appeared like a storm breaking the wrong way.
Tall, elegant, black coat billowing behind her, long hair damp but perfect. Her face was calm — too calm — the kind of calm that made people instinctively step back.
She didn't speak to the crowd.
She knelt in the puddle without hesitation, designer heels sinking into mud, and opened a large black umbrella over Wang Lin's head.
"Baby," she said softly.
Wang Lin's eyes snapped open. The moment he saw her, the dam broke. He lunged forward, burying his face directly into her chest — arms wrapping around her waist, body trembling violently.
Xiaoyun wrapped both arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other rubbing slow circles on his back.
"I've got you," she whispered into his hair. "Mom's here."
The crowd was silent now. Phones lowered. No one dared breathe too loudly.
Xiaoyun lifted her gaze — just once — and looked at the girls who had laughed.
They shrank back like scolded children.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
Carefully, she stood, bringing Wang Lin with her — still clinging, face hidden in her softness. His legs dangled; she supported his thighs with one arm, holding him against her like a child.
"Car's waiting," she said quietly to him.
He nodded against her chest, small and miserable. "Mn…"
She carried him through the gate — bridal style now — past the staring crowd, past the phones that no longer dared flash. The black Maybach idled at the curb, door already open.
The driver bowed his head as she slid inside with Wang Lin still in her arms.
The door closed.
Inside the car, Wang Lin didn't let go.
He stayed curled in her lap, face pressed between her breasts, breathing in her familiar scent — roses and sandalwood — while silent tears soaked her sweater.
Xiaoyun didn't speak. She just held him tighter, rocking him gently, kissing his hair over and over.
After a long time, his sobs quieted to hiccups.
"Mom…" he whispered.
"Mn?"
"I'm sorry… I'm always causing trouble…"
Xiaoyun tilted his chin up. Her eyes were soft — only for him.
"You're not trouble," she said firmly. "You're my little cutie. My sweetheart. And no one — no one — gets to make you cry."
Wang Lin's lip trembled. He buried his face again, clinging harder.
Xiaoyun kissed his forehead. "We're going home. You're safe now."
The car pulled away from the university gate.
Behind them, the rain kept falling.
But inside the Maybach, Wang Lin finally exhaled — safe in the only place that had ever truly felt like home.