My dao to eternity

Old Mu went down without any warning Li Fan could later point to, not a stumble or a stagger, just a sudden, complete loss of the strength holding him upright, his chisel clattering against the bench a half second before the rest of him followed it toward the floor.

Li Fan crossed the shop before the sound had finished echoing, catching the old man's shoulders before his head could strike the boards, and lowered him the rest of the way down with the same careful control he'd once used to lower a poisoned child's breathing into something steady. Old Mu's eyes were open, aware, his mouth working without producing anything Li Fan could immediately understand.

"Don't try to speak yet," Li Fan said, already pressing two fingers to the old man's wrist, cataloguing the pulse beneath his fingertips with the same trained attention he gave any patient, though his own chest had gone tighter than professional distance should have allowed. Fast. Uneven. Skipping every fourth or fifth beat in a way that told him plainly this wasn't simple exhaustion.

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