At four in the morning, the city was still steeped in an impenetrable night. As I climbed up to the office building with the last delivery, the glass door reflected a client gritting his teeth and cursing at his computer screen. In that moment, I inexplicably spoke up: 'Sir, the indicator for this altcoin you are staring at has formed a top divergence and is likely to pull back.' When he abruptly turned around, the astonished expression on his face, with his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose, became the starting point of my life’s turning point.
Three years ago, I was still a delivery person riding an electric bike through the streets. After finishing the last order each day, while others slumped on their seats scrolling through short videos to relax, I curled up in a ten-square-meter rented room, holding a lagging second-hand phone to tap into the convenience store's WiFi. In the gaps between deliveries, I turned the thermal box upside down to use it as a desk, deriving K-line models on wrinkled sticky notes; when waiting for food, I opened the order-taking app's timer, using the ticking stopwatch to train my mental arithmetic skills. On rainy days, stuck in the lobby of an office building, I stood for two hours behind the foggy glass, watching the people in the financial company's conference room gesturing at K-line charts, secretly noting unfamiliar terms on the takeout box lining.
Until that fateful deep night when I helped a client avoid a 20% loss. He grabbed my delivery box and urged me to attend the monthly meeting. As I stood on the podium in oil-stained work shoes, the snickers of the Armani-suited audience felt like ice picks piercing through me. But when I drew parallels between three years of delivery route optimization and quantitative trading strategies, likening the office building to resistance levels on a K-line chart, the sound of the air conditioning in the entire venue suddenly became exceptionally clear—amidst the silence, someone’s pen rolled onto the floor.
Now, the savings book at the bottom of my delivery box holds 23,000. They say the crypto world is a gambling table, but I know that every second spent noting terms while staring at the glass door during that rainy day was writing code for my destiny. Every person rushing through life has a password for changing their class hidden in their bike basket. This time, I want to ride my own life K-line and charge towards a limit-up.
