[ He's naturally uncomfortable with anything involving typing out replies. Even relying upon options that translate words into text feels too unpredictable. The few times he tried the application misunderstood enough to discourage him from further attempts, because that simply holds the potential for dangerous misunderstandings when he prefers complete control over a situation. Which means even if he's oblivious to certain social faux pas he's engaging in by not matching text with the same, if he knew it still wouldn't strong-arm him into trying. ]

Were you recovering from an injury of some sort?

[ Binghe mirrors that particular word back almost on instinct. His first assumptions that would apply to long stretches of healing while lying flat differ wildly, but all of them hold a degree of severity. ]

It's common enough where I come from.

[ He'll steer clear of any more specifics on what's normal or not from his own perspective. The details on these things tend to become less apparent when you're fighting a daily battle for your life; suffering a constant flood of anxiety, anger and bone-deep sorrow before meeting the marker of eighteen. ]

There's also meditation. Or bathing in cold water to clear your mind before trying to rest.

[ Luo Binghe did once jump into a freezing spring and that had instantly solved similar troubles. But he imagines it could act as a preventative measure, when so often cultivation sects practiced quenching their disciple's inner fires with icy dips into natural springs.