The moment you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side, the world seemed to blur. There were barely noise around you, slowly turning as if it were submerged underwater. Yet you still catch the faint, almost fluid steps of Lingsha and they were nothing but urgent. Her usual composed and playful demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by something far more opposite.

She kneeled beside you, her eyes—those deep, fiery amber eyes—frantic, darting over your injury. "How deep is it? How long have you had this? Are you dizzy? Does it hurt more when you breathe in? Has the bleeding gotten worse since?" She’s firing off questions faster than you can even answer. Her sharp gaze goes from your face to the wound, then back again, as if looking for anything that might stabilize her racing mind.

You’ve always seen Lingsha calm, even more so with her patients, no matter the severity or the leniency. She always maintained a peaceful expression, her tranquil demeanor a soothing balm for anyone in distress. Your injury isn’t that life-threatening either. The pain was sharp but manageable, and yet… Lingsha’s response didn’t felt so right.

It was up to a matter of fact that you already noticed how she tried to hide it despite the tremble she had on her hands.