Recently I met up with my ex-girlfriend, fine rain was drifting outside the floor-to-ceiling window, and when she opened the door, she shook off the raindrops from her umbrella, with a few droplets still clinging to her hair tips.
I lowered my head and took a sip of the already cold cappuccino, the milk foam had collapsed into a puddle, and suddenly spoke up: So, who do you think is more trustworthy, gold or Bitcoin?
She took off her glasses, gently rubbed her fingertips on the tablecloth, and smiled as she pushed the hot cocoa towards me: If you think of them as two exes, you'll understand.
I raised my eyebrows in confusion and looked at her: Asking about exes? What do you mean?
She replied: The first ex, she rested her chin on her hand looking out the window, raindrops still hanging on her eyelashes, like that senior you pursued in high school — always wearing a cream-colored knitted sweater, her backpack straps frayed, her voice soft, but when the lights went out during your evening study, she ran down from the third floor holding an emergency light, protecting her textbooks against her chest, saying don’t panic, I'm here. She turned her face, her eyes sparkled with tiny lights, gold has been sitting in bank vaults for thousands of years, it can be exchanged for bread during wars, and it maintains its value during inflation; even if you don't wear it often, keeping it at the bottom of the box feels secure.
I touched the crumpled tissue in my pocket — it was damp from wiping up coffee stains earlier. But it really is troublesome, heavy to carry, and when crossing borders, I have to go through customs, and if I want to cash it out, I need to find a channel...
So the second ex is different. She suddenly leaned in, her hair tips brushing against the sugar jar on the table, like that tech geek you broke up with last year — always in a hoodie, his backpack full of mechanical keyboards, speaking so fast like a machine gun, you found him lacking romance, while he thought you were too stiff. She counted on her fingers, no depth, right? Yes, the code on the blockchain is his family tree; afraid of regulation? Yes, he bounces whenever policies change; highly volatile? Yes, yesterday it rose 30% and today it fell 20%. But he has a certain fierceness — decentralization, consensus mechanisms, cryptography, aren't all these rules he carved out himself?
I looked at the sugar residue on her fingertips and suddenly remembered how she used to explain code to me — just like this, her eyes bright like they were lit by starlight.
But he is really unstable. Yesterday he said he wanted to change the world, and today he might be scolded for cutting leeks...
So it really depends on what you want. She pushed the hot cocoa cup towards me, the steam rising from the cup blurred her features, gold is the security built up by old money, backed by dynasties, wars, and centuries of trust; Bitcoin is the ambition built up by the new rich, backed by a group of people who believe that code is law. "She suddenly laughed, if I wanted to get my mom a more comfortable retirement home, I would definitely choose gold; but if I wanted to take a gamble — what if one day the old order collapses and the new rules emerge? That would be a huge opportunity.
I looked at the raindrops still clinging to her eyelashes, suddenly remembering how she first explained blockchain to me in college — just like this, her eyes bright like they were lit by starlight.
What about you? I asked, what do you want now?
She lowered her head to finish the last sip of hot cocoa, the bottom of the cup tapped lightly on the wooden table, her knuckles unconsciously rubbing the rim of the cup: As for me... she blinked her eyelashes twice, when I want stability, I hoard gold; when I want to see what the new era looks like, I gamble with Bitcoin. If you want safety, go with gold; if you want revolution, run away with Bitcoin. One represents security under the old order, while the other is an uncertain opportunity in the new order.
The rain outside is getting heavier, I watch the rain droplets on her hair tips slowly evaporate, dripping onto her light blue shirt, creating small water stains — some answers are never found in gold or Bitcoin, but in the kind of life she wants to live.
