In the winter night of 2017, the wind in Baishizhou wrapped around the fragrant smell of grilled gluten downstairs mixed with the charcoal fire, seeping in through the gaps of the foam boards. A thin layer of board could not block the quarrel of the couple diagonally opposite, and even the muffled sound of them throwing pillows could gently sway my creaky single iron frame bed.
In this cramped little corner where even turning around is a hassle, I opened the exchange APP and transferred all my savings of 300,000 accumulated over five years into it—like betting all my hopes of escaping the urban village on the fluctuating numbers on the screen.
Three days later, BTC skyrocketed, and my account directly soared to 3,000,000. The winter night balcony wind still carried the smell of fireworks; my fingertips trembled as I lit a cigarette, and the ash fell on my pants, burning a small hole. At that moment, I felt that this was a mark of almost touching freedom.
The Christmas lights had not yet been taken down when the market plummeted, and 3 million turned into only 600,000 in the blink of an eye. The song 'Christmas Gifts' by Eason Chan came from next door, and I stared at the screen laughing until tears choked my throat, finally understanding the harshest lesson at 25: getting rich is a fleeting illusion, falling and stumbling is the norm.
The stubborn me leveraged 20 times to trade ETH, making a net profit of 400,000 in one night, calling myself the 'Chosen One.' Until the night of May 19, in two hours, 600,000 evaporated, and the K-line fell like a kite with a broken string. The clear voice of a child reciting multiplication tables became the noise of another world unrelated to me. I locked myself in the house for three days eating instant noodles, and when I opened the window, I was startled by the fireworks in the urban village, realizing that leverage is a double-edged sword; the faster you climb, the harder you fall.
After that, I split my funds: 85% locked in mainstream coins as a base, 15% chased after 'domestic Ethereum,' and in the end, I lost even the miner fees. The coins clinked loudly as the convenience store owner gave me change, and I truly felt the weight of shrinking wealth.
Later, I set a hard stop loss line at 8%. When LUNA crashed, it was pouring rain in Shenzhen, the sound of rain was as loud as firecrackers; when FTM and APT plummeted one after another, I was at a hot pot restaurant enjoying some beef tripe, and the stop loss alert popped up on my phone, every bite was solid, unlike the previous panic.
I still live in the urban village, just changed to a room with a floor-to-ceiling window. Before placing an order, I always go downstairs to stroll, watching the steam from the stir-fried noodle stall, the children chasing each other, the elderly dancing in the square, and then I ask myself: 'Even if my account is cleared, can I still enjoy a hot pot meal?' If yes, I confirm; if not, I directly shut down.
The market never lacks opportunities, what’s missing is the capital to survive to the next round.
Fireworks will cool down, hot pot is boiling, as long as I’m here and the capital is intact, there will always be the confidence to turn over the next round!@bit雅
