Fluffy WangXian Oneshots Book Two

Trick Or Treat: Dial-A-Ride

Dear Beautiful Readers,

Welcome to Wei Ying’s Halloween/Birthday fic…or 5 + 1 things in getting to know your resident local rogue cultivator who may or may not be driving a cab at night on the side…who also might be incredibly beautiful at the same time, irrelevant and most inconveniently.

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1.

London is weirdly charming. Looking out across the classic architectural styles of the tall buildings, all with their own individual personalities, it feels solidly welcoming. There's an imposing appeal about the grandness of towering skyscrapers because of the little churches nestled in between, or the random pockets of green areas, avenues filled with trees, and now because of the season, the leaves are gold and bronze, rich with earthy tones.

There are certainly more pedestrians than in, say, places like America, which has its own charm depending on where they're visiting, but on the whole, it feels friendly. 

That is Lan Zhan’s first impression of the city, but then his phone pings and because it's an unusual noise, he glances at the widget that's just appeared on his home page. He notices it because, unlike other people's (reference to his brother, among others) phones, his device isn't cluttered with apps he rarely uses. In fact, he distinctly recalls a conversation with the management company who sent out the Cultivator-friendly mobile devices, and argued his case for a whole hour about how he didn't need the standard ones already installed that he couldn't get rid of. (The person eventually hung up on him, which, rude.)

XiChen sees him looking at it and smirks because he knows exactly why Lan Zhan believes it to be a waste of space on his home screen, and Lan Zhan side-eyes the muddy puddle a few feet away, calculating the distance x effort of pushing him in it as payback for being so well perceived.

“That's a new app,” XiChen says, stating the obvious. “Dial-A-Ride. A taxi service for cultivators.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Well, a few cultivators disagree. There have been enough instances where they've gotten stranded with no way of reaching home, so the Ministry of Cultivation decided to acquiesce to their demands of providing a service. You never know when you might need a ride, Didi.” He smiles indulgently back at Lan Zhan’s glare.

“I have Bichen.” Lan Zhan wonders where XiChen got his facts from. No doubt some tabloid trash newspapers online. Or Meng Yao, his current squeeze, who works for the Ministry.

“Indeed. I hope you never need that service, but it's there, just in case. Shall we get going?” XiChen holds the door open of the hotel, foiling Lan Zhan’s petty revenge plan by making him go first.

It's the second week of October and the evening is cool but pleasantly so, given that the Lan delegation are a unit of sharply dressed white suited individuals, always in uniform with the correct attire. The change in temperature according to season and place have long since ceased to bother them after they began sewing in the appropriate talismans to regulate outside conditions, a fairly new addition that became mandatory after its application proved successful a few years back. He's not sure how it happened, but he's glad of it because that means less dependency on their golden cores for circulating spiritual energy to ease comfort. Many cultivators with weaker cores could then direct the saved energy towards eliminating whatever they had gone to fight instead of keeping themselves warm or cool, depending on the situation and climate.

Some kind soul with an appreciation of natural beauty has planted cherry royal burgundy trees all along the roads outside the hotel, and their leaves are just beginning to turn from vivid greens into lush gold and red flames reaching for the sky. Grosvenor Square hosts a tiny idyllic park in the centre that Lan Zhan has his eye on, but so far, there's been no time to go there and quietly disappear for a few hours.