Work Text:
Jiang Cheng didn’t realize when he agreed to let the handsome woodcutter build a fence for his candy house that he was unknowingly signing his own death warrant.
When the woodcutter had returned to the village to get supplies and tell his brother he’d be away, Jiang Cheng had shown him the quickest and safest route back and assumed he’d never see the man again. It’s hardly uncommon for people to flake after all (in general, but especially on him). But every few days for the last fortnight, the woodcutter has returned without fail, making the long trek through the forest with wood and nails and wire strapped to his back.
And then… then he gets to work. He saws and hammers and at some point in the afternoon he inevitably starts doing it shirtless, muscles working and tanned skin glistening with sweat even in the dappled shade. Even through the frosted sugar windows, the sight of his exposed chest, broad as the trees he fells, and warm brown eyes are enough to unearth feelings in Jiang Cheng’s chest that he could have sworn he buried six feet deep when he was a much younger man.
He knows he needs to leave those feelings alone and maintain a careful distance from the other man. He knows better, the memory of his family trying to flee when the villagers discovered they were witches still seared painfully in his mind and the loss still tender even after all these years. There are untold dangers to allowing someone to get close—especially when that someone is a human who he met trying to kill him.
So he tries his best to ignore the pull of the woodcutter, of the want in his own chest, and to stay inside when Nie Mingjue is there. He meets with the woodcutter only to greet him, answer questions about the fence, and give him lunch. He does indulge himself a little, letting himself watch Nie Mingjue through the window more than he should under the paper-thin guise of making sure he’s not up to anything nefarious.
Nie Mingjue catches him looking sometimes, and Jiang Cheng’s face never fails to heat, cheeks always too quick to flush. But Nie Mingjue never remarks on it, only ever gives him a friendly wave and a dimpled smile.
Jiang Cheng is prepared to wait out the rest of Nie Mingjue’s tenure in the woods like this, satisfying the needy thing within his chest with these small indulgences.
Of course, his precious nephew has other ideas.
Initially sullen and resistant to the man who attacked his beloved jiujiu, Jin Ling has a short memory and a curious mind. The allure of a new person had quickly proved too difficult to resist. He’d switched allegiances after only a couple of crudely carved wooden toys and a few “flights” where Nie Mingjue spun him around high in the air. Now he runs out to greet Nie Mingjue the moment he arrives, peppers him with half-questions-half-demands throughout the day, and clings to his legs crying when it’s time for him to leave. Jiang Cheng never stops marveling at his nephew’s easy emotions, the way it’s so easy for children to be sticky and needy without shame. Jiang Cheng wishes Jin Ling could stay this way forever, even as he knows it’s impossible and even as he knows it’s his job to help him learn not to be.
Jiang Cheng tries to scold Jin Ling for bothering their guest, but Nie Mingjue insists it’s fine, as long as Jin Ling promises to ask before he touches anything. And so Jin Ling, and by extension Jiang Cheng (needing to keep a closer eye on his nephew), starts to join Nie Mingjue outside.
Alone in his bed on many a late night, Jiang Cheng thinks about his failures as a guardian, how tomorrow he will prepare Jin Ling for Nie Mingjue’s inevitable departure and the feelings that will come when he finally leaves their candy home for good. This is nothing more than a transactional relationship borne of obligation: Nie Mingjue will finish the fence and then he will leave. If he were a better man, Jiang Cheng would send Nie Mingjue away as soon as possible, even before the fence is finished and before any connection can grow too strong.
But every time Nie Mingjue slings his axe behind his back and says with a heart-wrenchingly easy smile, “see you next time,” he finds himself nodding instead of turning him away.
Most of Jiang Cheng's mornings now start with Nie Mingjue patiently answering Jin Ling’s unending questions as Jiang Cheng stands with his arms crossed, silent and churlish as ever. He knows he’ll only put his foot in his mouth if he tries to make idle chatter. The only people who could ever tolerate his acerbic, awkward tongue are either dead, gone, or 100 centimeters tall. But by midday, Nie Mingjue has always somehow managed to coax a barked laugh or a conversation out of him, with stories about the village grannies or questions about the hard candy gutter system that gradually drift into more personal questions about Jiang Cheng himself.
Nie Mingjue is straightforward and seems to take things at face value, which works for Jiang Cheng; with anyone else, he’d be worried about an ulterior motive like an enemy trying to find a weakness to exploit to take him down. But over long days outside, Jiang Cheng has come to realize that if Nie Mingjue does decide to try and kill him again, he’ll come at Jiang Cheng head on.
So instead they chat until Jiang Cheng forgets to be awkward, until Jiang Cheng remembers how good it feels to share parts of himself. Until an ache starts in Jiang Cheng’s chest that makes him feel like he’s been peeled open. Until he can’t decide if he wants to curl back up or let himself lie open and exposed, soaking up the sun that is Nie Mingjue.
It doesn’t help that Nie Mingjue has dropped enough hints that he finds Jiang Cheng, against all odds, attractive. It’s a ridiculous notion, coming from a man like Nie Mingjue, kind and honorable with steady, large hands that leave Jiang Cheng’s mouth dry whenever they grip tight around his hammer’s handle. The idea that Nie Mingjue might see him as more than an obligation makes him hope, which is all wrong. Jiang Cheng knows that just because someone thinks you’re aesthetically acceptable does not mean that they want to—
That they could—
That there’s anything more.
And Jiang Cheng is a grumpy old witch who has a child to look after. He’s not exactly a hot ticket item for anything serious.
Jiang Cheng has considered approaching Nie Mingjue for something… less serious. He’s only human and he’s certainly fantasized about it plenty. But then a day will slip through his fingers again, Jiang Cheng too distracted by Nie Mingjue passionately excoriating a local bureaucrat to watch the time and the air between them singing with a magic more powerful than any spell Jiang Cheng can cast. And then he knows that it could never be just that for him.
Their easy conversation makes his heart flutter dangerously and he busies himself with fixing lemonade and a million unnecessary savory snacks for his new guest. His magic betrays him, though, adding extra flourishes whenever he forgets to concentrate: cucumber curlicues and (one extremely mortifying time) carrot hearts on top of what should be simple vegetable dips and sliced bread. He scrapes them off, buries them deep into the compost where he hopes no one will see them, not even himself.
The pace of Nie Mingjue’s work slows to a crawl. Nie Mingjue is not only tied up in conversations with Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, but he's also started helping with other chores around the house, gathering water and checking traps. He insists it’s better for him to venture into the woods with his axe, ignoring the fact that Jiang Cheng is a literal witch with magic (albeit of a largely harmless nature). Jiang Cheng thinks he might have finally found someone more stubborn than himself.
Despite these delays and seemingly infinite distractions from Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, Nie Mingjue’s work does eventually come to a close. Nie Mingjue is too competent for it to go on forever.
When the last post is placed, Jiang Cheng thanks him stiffly, annoyed at himself and the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. This was inevitable, and he’s not a child like Jin Ling. He knows better.
Yet he finds himself wanting to prolong the moment and say something, anything. The tip of his tongue itches and he wants to tell Nie Mingjue he’d love to meet his brother that he talks about constantly, wants to tell him about his own who he misses so much.
He says none of that. He sets his energy to peeling Jin Ling off one of Nie Mingjue’s tree trunk thighs until Jin Ling runs into the house, screaming and slamming the door behind him. Jiang Cheng stays quiet, lets this be a warm, if bittersweet, memory in a sea of cold ones. Lets Nie Mingjue walk down that forest path one last time.
But to Jiang Cheng’s surprise, Nie Mingjue hesitates only a couple of steps down the path.
“I… did try to kill you. I don’t think my debt is repaid.” His voice’s low rumble makes Jiang Cheng’s spine tingle.
Jiang Cheng knows by now that Nie Mingjue is like this, decent to a fault, giving to what he thinks is right without thought for himself. It hurts to turn him away, but Jiang Cheng knows he needs to do the right thing as well.
So he papers over the hole in his heart with a scoff. “Nonsense. You were trying to do the right thing in the first place and this fence is better than I imagined. You’ve already added far too many extra security measures to it.”
But Nie Mingjue’s eyes blaze, determined and filled with righteous honor as he takes a few steps back to Jiang Cheng.
“Still… let me do one more thing.”
Jiang Cheng frowns, his heart despairing that this good man keeps insisting on staying, making the inevitable that much worse for it.
“What else could I ask of you? You’ve looked after Jin Ling when I needed to forage for ingredients for my spells and you’ve brought water and supplies from town. It’s more than enough.”
Nie Mingjue shakes his head, and then he—he reaches for Jiang Cheng’s hand. Jiang Cheng is too surprised to pull away, staring shocked at where their hands are joined. Nie Mingjue’s skin is as rough and callused as Jiang Cheng imagined, his hand large enough to make Jiang Cheng’s feel delicate. But his touch is gentle, and Jiang Cheng startles with the realization that this is no gesture of obligation.
“Just one more thing. Let me make you dinner. Something—something proper.” There’s a pleading edge to his voice that Jiang Cheng has never heard before.
Nie Mingjue’s eyes are sincere and for as long as it took him to get here, Jiang Cheng is not a complete idiot. Nie Mingjue offer is clearly not just for dinner, or even just a night. The realization that there might be something mutual between them is enough to make Jiang Cheng want to ascend.
But even as his heart sings, his brain lags, wary of letting someone, even as someone as good as Nie Mingjue, into his life. Keeps worrying, shadows of faces of everyone who’s left passing through his head.
At Jiang Cheng’s lack of response, Nie Mingjue’s shoulders slump and he takes a half step back.
Jiang Cheng’s body wins the war, refusing to bend to his mind’s anxieties. His hand tightens on Nie Mingjue’s before he can move away.
Maybe—maybe he can want this. Maybe it doesn’t have to be just be him and Jin Ling anymore.
“You’re sure?” Jiang Cheng still needs to ask, his voice a stilted croak.
Nie Mingjue’s nod is as steady and certain as the rest of him.
“I’m sure. I have been since the moment you told me why you built this house, maybe even before then. Definitely since I learned how wholly you give yourself to whatever you love, whether that’s your garden or your nephew. You’ve been through more than any one person should have to bear, but you came out the other side both strong and caring. That’s the someone I want by my side. You’re someone I want by my side.”
It’s only after this speech that any sign of uncertainty shows, Nie Mingjue's voice growing softer. “If you don’t feel the same way, please allow me to prove myself worthy. We can go slow,” he offers, “I’ll be here.”
The question has never been if Nie Mingjue is worthy. And Jiang Cheng has been hurt and he’s never been sentimental, but… Jiang Cheng actually believes him. He hasn’t let himself believe in anyone in a long time, and it makes him dizzy.
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng agrees breathlessly, then corrects himself because Nie Mingjue deserves more than some mealymouthed acceptance. “Yes. I want that. I want you here.”
Nie Mingjue’s face breaks into a wide grin, and Jiang Cheng finds himself returning it, heart roaring with new life.
“Dinner,” Jiang Cheng declares. “And, and—”
Before he can lose his nerve, he pushes his lips to Nie Mingjue’s, just for a second, just enough to taste the salt from the sweat on his skin and feel the rough tickle of the hair on his upper lip.
He’s barely pulled away, their breath still mingling, when Nie Mingjue makes a small unhappy sound and hauls Jiang Cheng back in for a deeper kiss so good that it has Jiang Cheng inadvertently sending a crackle of magic into the air and the garden flourishing around them. Jiang Cheng's every nerve is set on fire from Nie Mingjue's touch, but he can't remember the last time he felt so at peace. He loses himself in it, in the safety and the promises of Nie Mingjue's embrace.
Nie Mingjue does leave the small yard eventually, but it’s not to go back to the village. Rather, it’s to head into the little candy house, hand-in-hand with Jiang Cheng.