From the moment humankind first donned clothing and left behind their primitive, wild ways, the appreciation of beauty in dress has been woven into our very genes. Charlie liked to think that his admiration for Puxi in her new outfit was just a natural inheritance from his ancestors—nothing to be embarrassed about.
Still, just to be safe, he splashed his nose with cold water from the tap, trying to stave off any potentially awkward situations—like a nosebleed. If that happened, Puxi would never let it go; she'd hound him with questions until he was forced to invent some excuse.
But he had to admit, she did look wonderful—especially the way the skirt paired with those knee-high socks...
Charlie washed his face again, determined to calm down. He couldn't act like some wide-eyed Muggle who'd never seen a pretty girl before. After all, he'd once captained Gryffindor's Quidditch team! He'd seen plenty of beautiful, clever, and charming witches—surely he could handle himself?
Yet Puxi was different. She was truly special.
He remembered the first time they met—she'd knocked a young dragon clear across the field with a single punch. That blow had struck something deep inside him, leaving a mark he couldn't shake.
And when she was quiet, she was so small, so adorable—her words always blunt, her mind as clear and unblemished as a blank page. That contrast fascinated Charlie more than he cared to admit.
Yes, he had to face it: Puxi was a girl who could capture anyone's heart.
But he'd only just met her. He barely knew anything about her—how could he possibly reveal his feelings? He wasn't even sure what those feelings were.
So, for now, he'd just keep things normal: he'd cook her delicious meals, and she'd sometimes bring back wild game from the mountains. That was enough.
With his thoughts settled, Charlie put on a smile and stepped out of the washroom—only to find Puxi staring at him in confusion.
"What's wrong?" he asked, instinctively touching his nose and mouth.
"Weren't you going to get a handkerchief?" she asked, blinking.
He glanced at her mouth—still shiny from the meal—and realized he'd completely forgotten. "Oh... right. I'll get it now." The red-haired boy turned back, cheeks burning.
"A bit silly..." Puxi muttered under her breath.
She didn't know much about social niceties, but she could tell when someone was being a little foolish. Today, this handsome young man was definitely acting a bit silly—like one of those deer-like creatures in the forest, all wide eyes and awkwardness.
Maybe it was a kind of mutual understanding—both of them thinking the other was a bit daft.
...
Proper table manners called for napkins, but Charlie had always eaten alone at the dragon sanctuary, so he'd never bothered. Then Puxi barged into his life, and she was even less concerned with etiquette. Napkins had simply never been a priority.
By the time he returned with the handkerchief, the chicken was nearly gone—Puxi had even chewed up some of the smaller bones, like a human food processor.
If Qin Yu—the one who'd taught him the recipe—could have seen it, he'd probably have sighed, Now that's the real way to eat Beggar's Chicken!
Of course, Qin Yu didn't even know Puxi existed, let alone what was happening here. Charlie hadn't had time to mention her in his letters.
Watching the girl demolish her meal so thoroughly, Charlie couldn't help but think of his mum, Molly Weasley.
"Mum would love Puxi. She's always complaining we waste food—she'd probably say Puxi is more of a Weasley than any of us..."
The thought warmed his heart, and for a moment he pictured bringing Puxi home: Mum fussing over her, Dad—Arthur Weasley—telling his usual not-so-funny jokes, and his siblings all curious about their new "sister-in-law"...
No, no, what am I thinking?!
Charlie reined in his wandering imagination and handed Puxi the handkerchief.
But she simply leaned in, chicken bone still in hand, and said, "You help me wipe it."
She couldn't put the bone down—maybe she just wanted to suck on it a little longer? Compared to introducing Puxi to his family, wiping her mouth was a small thing. At least, that's what Charlie told himself as he hesitated for half a second, then gently dabbed at the oil around her mouth.
To help, Puxi puffed out her cheeks wherever he wiped, pressing against the cloth. She found the whole thing amusing and let him keep at it until her face was spotless.
It was the closest Charlie had ever been to a girl his own age, and even with just a handkerchief between them, he could feel the softness of her skin. If there hadn't been that thin layer of cloth... He quickly pushed the thought aside.
Watching her treat it like a game, he couldn't help but smile, his expression softening.
When her face was finally clean and her lips wiped rosy, he put the handkerchief away, planning to wash it later.
"Charlie, you're really nice—the nicest person I've ever met," Puxi said, sucking on the chicken bone and squinting at him in approval.
Seeing how much she loved to eat, Charlie decided that next time he'd have to make two chickens—one just wasn't enough for her.
"How many people do you actually know? How can you be sure I'm the nicest?" he asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious. He really didn't know much about Puxi. If he ever did introduce her to his family... Well, there he went again, letting his mind wander.
"How many? Let me think... It's been so long, I can't remember. I've met a lot of people, anyway."
Her answer made Charlie feel a twinge of jealousy. He'd thought she was so naive, so unworldly—surely he was special? Apparently not.
He had to admit, it was just his own possessiveness talking.
But then Puxi continued, utterly matter-of-fact: "...But they all either made me kill people, or I killed them. None of them were as nice as you—none of them cooked for me or wiped my face."
What did that mean?
So, because he didn't make her kill—or wasn't killed by her—that made him the nicest?
A chill ran down Charlie's spine. Remembering her strength, he realized just how dangerous Puxi truly was.
If he brought her home, would she want to kill his family too?
The image of the Weasleys lying in pools of blood, of The Burrow burned to ashes, made his throat go dry.
"Charlie, are you afraid of me?" Puxi's voice broke the silence.
There was confusion in her tone, a hint of sadness, but mostly a cold indifference—like ancient ice pressing down from her tiny frame, chilling Charlie to the core.
"I..." He couldn't get the words out.
He was afraid. A little.
"Oh. I see." Puxi nodded.
She popped the chicken bone in her mouth, her white teeth crunching it to bits, then tilted her head and swallowed. She drained the cup of tea he'd poured earlier, then looked at him, face expressionless. "I'll leave."
"Puxi..." He spoke her strange, beautiful name, his heart twisting with pain.
But she ignored him, stood, and turned to go.
As she walked away, she muttered, "Alpha was right. People will only ever fear us. I almost forgot..."
Her pace didn't falter—in fact, she walked faster, each step more determined.
By the time Charlie snapped out of his daze and rushed outside, the red-clad, black-haired girl was already gone.
"Puxi!"
His voice echoed across the lonely, windswept mountainside, as if he'd lost something precious.
He stood there, bewildered, replaying her words: "I'll leave." What did she mean?
Then he remembered the letter he hadn't yet sent—the one where he'd written about a friend who might be falling for a girl, asking Qin Yu for advice on how that friend should get along with her, how to confess.
Now, it seemed, he'd have to rewrite the whole thing.
The autumn wind howled, and the boy's heart was troubled.
All his scattered thoughts circled back to her question, echoing in his mind:
"Charlie, are you afraid of me?"
Remembering the confusion and sadness hidden in her cold tone, Charlie felt a sudden ache in his chest.
And then, a wave of regret.
"What was I so afraid of...?"
He murmured to himself, as the autumn wind blew colder still, matching the heaviness in his heart.
Dimensional Wall
Author's Note: To clarify, Puxi is designed as a simple and direct thinker (not stupid—she's actually quite perceptive). Her abrupt transitions and unique logic often catch Charlie off guard, making these chapters a bittersweet blend of warmth and pain. This is just a short side story—two chapters for now—but she'll definitely cross paths with the main plot later.
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