At three in the morning, my finger trembles above the close button—this is the sixth liquidation warning this month, and my balance is just enough to buy instant noodles for next week.

Friend, we have all experienced this moment:

Using our salary to buy the "next hundredfold coin," only to find out the project team used the money to buy a Lamborghini, leaving you with a 404 error on the official website mocking you for believing in "locking up for institutional-level returns," while your assets have turned into tombstones on the blockchain. Unlocking that day felt like a three-day and three-night funeral study of the white paper, and the most reliable thing turned out to be the font layout.

Last year's winter night was even more biting. I mortgaged my wedding gold bracelet for three thousand U to trade contracts, hoping to earn back the money for the banquet. Three hours later, when the liquidation SMS rang, my fiancée was in the living room laughing at "Blossoms." In the cold light of the screen, tears fell on the F5 key of the keyboard—only that night did I understand that I was merely the wick burnt out by the dealer.

But I crawled out of the grave with two shovels:

The first shovel: Admit that I am a fool.

When you argue about the MACD golden cross in the group, the whales are drawing lines with millions of dollars. I resigned myself to not being a prophet:

I deleted all channels containing terms like "get rich quick" and "must rise," dividing my principal into ten parts, binding each trade to a 2% stop-loss line, and withdrawing the principal if profits exceed 5%. Eating a bowl of beef noodles at a physical store feels more real than floating profits in the account.

The second shovel: Learn to be a vulture and eat rotten meat.

Retail investors' tears nourish the most:

In a certain coin's DC community, the noise was deafening. I flipped through the blockchain data— the project team's multi-signature wallet hadn't moved for two weeks, and large amounts of bloody chips suddenly flooded the exchange. I immediately opened a reverse perpetual contract (that time ETH spiked and I made a 38% rebound) and used the screenshots of the liquidation as reverse indicators. When someone cried to liquidate, I placed a limit buy order.

The most ruthless shot: Pay to find a steady job.

After earning my first BTC last year:

I immediately withdrew 10% to buy gold bars and stored them in my hometown bank, converted 40% into government bonds for reverse repos with an annualized return of 2.8%, feeding my sense of security while only half a BTC remained to hunt in the market. The fear of being preyed upon by the dealer disappeared.

This morning, I counted 1.9 bitcoins in my cold wallet and suddenly remembered that night when I pawned my gold bracelet: at that time, I thought I lost love, but now I understand it was breaking free from my inner demons.

The most potent poison in the crypto world is the illusion of getting rich quickly, while the only antidote is to forge "survival" into every inch of bone. When instant noodles no longer come with tears, the bloody spoils will float in the torrent of code.

I used to stumble alone in the darkness, but now the light is in my hands.

The light is always on, will you follow? @币来财888