Some say my life is as bland as a cup of lukewarm water.

Waking up naturally at seven in the morning, the egg cooker pops out two soft-boiled eggs on time, paired with freshly ground coffee brewed from beans, sitting on the balcony watching the K-line jump boxes — oh no, it's watching the morning light crawl over the lightning rod on the opposite rooftop.

In the afternoon, I went to the old bookstore I often visit; the owner has newly received a set of geological atlases from the 1980s. I squatted in the corner flipping through them for three hours, missing two fluctuation signals. On the way home, I detoured to the vegetable market, and the old lady gave me half a tomato more than yesterday, saying, 'I see you always buy, I know you love eating them raw.'

In the evening, I adjusted parameters in front of the computer, the reflection of the screen showing the wall clock, the second hand moving more steadily than the K-line. I must turn off the screen before midnight; the dog-eared 'Tide Table' on my bedside table has a shell I picked up at the beach last year wedged between its pages, and the pattern on the shell brings more comfort than any indicator.

My friends laugh at me for making money yet living like this; I said it might be that I stared at the market too much in the early days, and now I just want life to go a little slower. After all, compared to the numbers jumping on the screen, I care more about whether tomorrow's sunlight will shine on my coffee cup on time. #比特币流动性危机 #加密股IPO季 #香港稳定币新规