The Night Before a Liquidation
At 3:17 a.m., Lin Yuan stared at the K-line chart on his phone, his fingers trembling slightly.
He had just transferred the last 20,000 U into his futures account. GTC—this was a coin he’d been watching for three days. It had been pulled from 0.095 all the way up to 0.184, nearly doubling.
In the group, someone was giving trade signals, saying the target was 0.5 and that he should go long.
“ This time it’s different,” he told himself. “There’s fundamental support.”
50x leverage. Going all-in long at an entry price of 0.162. The system showed his liquidation price was 0.103. He had calculated it: the lowest GTC had ever fallen to was only 0.095. There was still some distance before liquidation.
“Steady.”
He turned off the alarm and lay down to sleep. In his dream, everything was red—bullish candles. His account balance shot upward like it was on a rocket.
At 7 in the morning, his phone started vibrating like crazy.
The first thing he did after opening his eyes was grab his phone. The screen was all red. GTC crashed—dropping from 0.184 straight to 0.099. His futures account balance was zero. The liquidation record was crystal clear: 0.103—fully liquidated.
20,000 U. Gone.
He sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind completely blank. The phone was still ringing. In the group, people were yelling “Buy the dip, buy the dip,” and others were mocking “Another liquidation.” He set the group messages to Do Not Disturb and opened his banking app to check his balance. There was still 43,000—money he had planned for next semester’s rent.
His mother called and asked how he’d been lately. He said he was doing great, everything at work was going smoothly. After he hung up, he sat on the balcony for a long time.
At 2 p.m., GTC rebounded to 0.144. The group got lively again. Someone said, “I told you it would come back.” Someone else said, “Hurry up and get on board.”
Lin Yuan stared at that number and didn’t say a word.
He closed the futures account page and uninstalled the trading app shortcut. He wasn’t quitting trading because he couldn’t; it was because he finally understood something: in this market, living longer matters far more than making money faster.
That night, he wrote a line in his notebook: Never use the money for rent to bet on a 50x leverage you don’t even understand.
Outside the window, the city lights blinked on one by one. Tomorrow he still had to go to work, and the days still had to be lived.
#合约爆仓 #GTC #cryptocurrency story
At 3:17 a.m., Lin Yuan stared at the K-line chart on his phone, his fingers trembling slightly.
He had just transferred the last 20,000 U into his futures account. GTC—this was a coin he’d been watching for three days. It had been pulled from 0.095 all the way up to 0.184, nearly doubling.
In the group, someone was giving trade signals, saying the target was 0.5 and that he should go long.
“ This time it’s different,” he told himself. “There’s fundamental support.”
50x leverage. Going all-in long at an entry price of 0.162. The system showed his liquidation price was 0.103. He had calculated it: the lowest GTC had ever fallen to was only 0.095. There was still some distance before liquidation.
“Steady.”
He turned off the alarm and lay down to sleep. In his dream, everything was red—bullish candles. His account balance shot upward like it was on a rocket.
At 7 in the morning, his phone started vibrating like crazy.
The first thing he did after opening his eyes was grab his phone. The screen was all red. GTC crashed—dropping from 0.184 straight to 0.099. His futures account balance was zero. The liquidation record was crystal clear: 0.103—fully liquidated.
20,000 U. Gone.
He sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind completely blank. The phone was still ringing. In the group, people were yelling “Buy the dip, buy the dip,” and others were mocking “Another liquidation.” He set the group messages to Do Not Disturb and opened his banking app to check his balance. There was still 43,000—money he had planned for next semester’s rent.
His mother called and asked how he’d been lately. He said he was doing great, everything at work was going smoothly. After he hung up, he sat on the balcony for a long time.
At 2 p.m., GTC rebounded to 0.144. The group got lively again. Someone said, “I told you it would come back.” Someone else said, “Hurry up and get on board.”
Lin Yuan stared at that number and didn’t say a word.
He closed the futures account page and uninstalled the trading app shortcut. He wasn’t quitting trading because he couldn’t; it was because he finally understood something: in this market, living longer matters far more than making money faster.
That night, he wrote a line in his notebook: Never use the money for rent to bet on a 50x leverage you don’t even understand.
Outside the window, the city lights blinked on one by one. Tomorrow he still had to go to work, and the days still had to be lived.
#合约爆仓 #GTC #cryptocurrency story