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[+] localize? en_ca page
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## Story
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- to be translated.
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When Shuiyue stepped into the vast realms of the internet under her present name, it wasn’t met with trust or open arms.
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She didn’t shy away from her youthful naivete, those impulsive days embedded in the controversial culture of "Esu."
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Now, she carries her past as a tale of caution, offering wisdom to friends on shielding their private lives
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from the stormy gales of online transphobia and cruelty.
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Friends, however, were scarce.
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The shadow of her history cast its long, uneasy doubts, keeping many at bay.
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Her struggles with bipolar disorder unfolded as impulsive spending—an army of AirPods,
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neatly aligned in a row, though she swore, “They’re all fake.”
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And when regret would creep like a thief in the night, she’d lament,
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“If only I hadn’t squandered so much… My surgery fund would be ready by now.”
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Seeking solace and counsel, she posed a question in her circle of confidantes:
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“What advice do you all have for me?”
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And the candid replies poured in:
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"Don’t flaunt wealth, don’t lose yourself to madness, don’t walk hand in hand with Esu’s lingering shadows."
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“All right. Got it. I’ll start immediately.”
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But who knows if her promises took root in action or whimsy?
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"Not going mad—that’s the hard part,”
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she’d confessed with a wicked grin. "I’ve got this itch to stir chaos now and then."
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“Oh, you troublesome, endearing soul," we’d sigh.
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“The madness, it seems, is in my marrow now—beyond cure or reach.”
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But beneath the whimsical storms, she was still the girl in the sailor-style uniform,
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adorned with a blue ribbon, peddling absurd humor with a pure, radiant laugh.
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Her joys lingered in the glow of digital gadgets and their intricate riddles.
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In her modest and cluttered abode, treasures lay scattered—cassette tapes, phones, hard drives, stickers—
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each sorted with loving precision.
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Some sealed neatly in boxes, labeled in her tidy scrawl.
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I’d secretly wonder if she held a penchant for collecting duplicates—artifacts in mirroring rows.
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To her, data security was religion. Backups, an unspoken vow.
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She had a collection of glasses, fitted identically to her prescription,
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as if each lens held its own intimate history, etched into her memory.
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Yet she wasn’t confined to her small, crowded sanctuary. No, not Shuiyue.
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When the weight of her mind lifted, she flitted from place to place,
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sometimes journeying to friends in faraway Changchun.
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Often, she’d parade photos of her cat with unmasked pride—though her family loathed the feline spirit.
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As for her own unpopularity with certain souls, she met it not with ire, but disheartened sighs.
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Love had knocked at her door time and time again,
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but it was a pattern cruelly familiar—a yearning for love, a longing to be loved.
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She eventually walked a path of playful rivalry and friendship with someone she cherished: Youhun.
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Their bond deepened during a brief cohabitation in Dongguan.
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Yet, shadows loomed—gender dysphoria, body image battles,
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and the persistent echo of mental unrest haunted her.
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The thought of turning out her flame—it lingered in silent corners of her mind.
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When news of Youhun’s death reached Shuiyue, it struck her like a thunderclap.
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"How could she go before me? I’m still here," she whispered, shaken.
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And then came sorrow’s flood: "But as soon as she left, my balance wavered.
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Me—soft-hearted, crumbling at anyone’s passing as though my soul, too, would shatter."
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Her voice trembled with a selfless plea:
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"Could I trade my life for hers? Bring her existence back, restore her sanity to its fullest bloom?”
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Three days after Youhun’s departure, an acquaintance reached out to Shuiyue.
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Sensing her fragility, they sought to comfort her, to find someone who might stand vigil through her long and dark hours.
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But alas, no one arrived.
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“Darling, please don’t follow her. If you show up chasing her into the afterlife, she’ll be *so* annoyed with you.”
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"I’m joking!" Shuiyue laughed, her bravado laced with defiant fragility.
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"I’m terrified of death—I’d never actually go through with it.
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You think I’d die for her? Please, I haven’t even lived enough yet.
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What nonsense is there to fear?"
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In this final exchange with her friend Shu, her words danced with denial and trembling strength.
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Less than a week later, her passing was confirmed by Aypasha, a dear friend from her brightest days.
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