Brother, I've run away from Binance. There's no banquet that doesn't come to an end; this feast has reached its final moment. The delicacies have long been consumed, leaving only cold leftovers and a scene of chaos. The wise have already filled their stomachs and quietly left the table, while you, slow to realize, still refuse to depart, clattering your bowl with chopsticks, fantasizing and hoping for the next delicious main course. In the end, what awaits is the hefty bill for this banquet. Someone always has to foot the bill, and this time it's you.