At two in the morning, the screen went dark, seven hundred thousand reset to zero, even the cursor was too lazy to blink.

He didn't cry, nor did he throw the mouse, he just pushed the chair to the corner, as if folding himself up.

The account had six thousand left — not a chip to recoup losses, but the last bullet.

Either a single shot to the throat, or forever keep quiet.

I pulled him into the study, giving only three military rules:

1. Only do 'dislocated profits'.

After extreme fluctuations in ETH, the 38.2% Fibonacci retracement was like an unhealed wound.

Place a 5x long position, stop loss at 1.5%, take profit at 4% and run immediately.

One trade a day, don’t be greedy and definitely don’t stay up late.

Six thousand crawled to nine thousand five like a snail, slow but steady.

2. Only eat 'emotional dislocations'.

In the ten minutes after big news breaks, the market will be stunned.

Place orders in advance, only eat the two centimeters in the middle that are the fattest, position always ≤15%.

Nine thousand five touched eighteen thousand, like dancing the tango in a minefield, heartbeat is heartbeat, but the rhythm must not be chaotic.

3. Profit interception.

The night the funds broke twenty thousand, he was just about to add to his position when I handed him a cold card.

"Withdraw half, lock it in."

He was stunned: "Bro, isn’t this cutting off my retreat?"

I replied: "For most people, retreat is an illusion."

From then on, for every ten thousand earned, withdraw seven thousand.

The account always kept fifteen thousand as kindling, the rest went into cold storage.

Four months later, he sent me a screenshot: cold card balance 570,000.

I replied to him with an iced Americano:

"Does it hurt?"

"It hurts, but hurting once is better than being tortured by an illusion for a lifetime."

Later he changed his avatar to an old mining lamp, with only one line in his signature:

Follow @小花生说币 "The light is in my hands, will you follow or not?"