“Master, I'm feeling restless again. I filled my position within the first ten minutes of trading, and as a result, I was stuck three points down.” Xiao K's voice message was full of frustration.
I replied to him, “Didn’t I tell you to write a plan before the market opens?”
“I did, but once I sit in front of the screen, my fingers just won’t listen.”
I laughed and switched to voice message: “Let me tell you a secret — I actually spend less than four minutes placing orders in a day, and the other seven hours and fifty-six minutes are spent monitoring myself.”
Xiao K was bewildered. I threw this message into the student group chat, asking everyone to read it together —
When doing short-term trading, eighty percent of the time is burned waiting.
Waiting for moving averages to converge, waiting for volume to diverge, waiting for emotions to reach freezing point, waiting for that signal that belongs only to me to light up.
I once thought that “diligence” meant “being active,” not leaving my seat from eight in the morning until four in the evening, with the K-line beating like a drum, sending adrenaline soaring.
Later, while keeping an eye on the market and working on my side hustle, one moment of distraction led to a screen turning gray and my account turning red — the game can restart, but if the position blows up, it’s truly gone.
From that day on, I uninstalled the game and closed social media, leaving only a playlist to loop endlessly.
Day after day, the mouse doesn’t click, the keyboard doesn’t clack, and to outsiders, it looks like I’m in deep meditation.
Only I know that the dopamine hasn’t died down; it has just switched fuel: from the instant high of chasing prices to the delayed satisfaction of “predictions being validated by the market.”
Some people advised, “It’s so tedious, why not switch careers?”
I countered, “Which other profession has its weaknesses clearly labeled, making you reflect on yourself every minute?”
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