Missed Seventy Thousand US Dollars
Lao Chen stared at the SAND candlestick chart on his screen, his fingers trembling slightly.
The current price was 0.06954, and it had surged as high as 0.07350 today. But he remembered clearly: three months ago, in the dead of night, SAND was at 0.008.
Back then, he’d only been in the circle for half a year. He wandered aimlessly through Binance’s spot market, flipping through one coin after another. When SAND dropped by more than ninety percent, the comments section went silent—no one discussed it, no one believed in it. He clicked in and glanced at it. “This crappy project is probably going to go to zero,” he thought, and shut the page, chasing another trending meme coin instead.
After that, he replayed it in his mind every day.
SAND bounced back from 0.008—0.01, 0.02, 0.03. When it reached 0.02, he noticed it once. He thought, “So what if it doubles? It fell ninety percent before—dead cat bounce.” In the group chat, he even typed, “The metaverse is already cold early,” and got a row of agreeing emoji reactions.
Later it hit 0.04.
A college classmate posted a screenshot, saying he bought SAND at 0.012 and was up threefold. Lao Chen replied “Impressive” with a straight face, but inside he felt pricked by a needle. He started opening SAND’s page more and more. Every time he saw the price rise, he felt a suffocating panic.
When it reached 0.04238—this round’s low—he finally made up his mind to buy. He opened Binance, entered the amount, ready to go all-in on 20,000 U. In the very second he confirmed the order, he suddenly hesitated. What if it dumped again? What if it was a bull trap?
He closed the page, told himself to wait a bit longer.
Then SAND kept climbing all the way to 0.07350.
If he had bought those 20,000 U at 0.04238, his value would now be close to 33,000 U. If he had bought at 0.008, those 20,000 U would have turned into nearly 170,000 U.
Seventy thousand US dollars.
Lao Chen put down his phone, walked to the balcony, and lit a cigarette. The night breeze brushed over him, and he recalled the rules he’d set for himself when he first entered the market: once you’ve made up your mind, buy—don’t hesitate. Every rule was bought with lessons paid for in real money, but he kept making the same mistake over and over.
His phone lit up again. Someone in the group was shouting that ENJ was going up too, from 0.02868 to 0.03750—almost a 30 percent surge. Lao Chen glanced at it, then flipped the phone face-down on the table.
He didn’t dare to look anymore.
Every missed chance kept telling him the same truth: in this market, the cost of hesitation is always greater than the cost of impulsiveness. But he didn’t know whether next time he’d be able to change his habit.
After finishing the cigarette, Lao Chen returned to his desk, opened Binance, and added SAND to his watchlist.
This time, he told himself, don’t miss it again.
#SAND #加密货币 #抄底
Lao Chen stared at the SAND candlestick chart on his screen, his fingers trembling slightly.
The current price was 0.06954, and it had surged as high as 0.07350 today. But he remembered clearly: three months ago, in the dead of night, SAND was at 0.008.
Back then, he’d only been in the circle for half a year. He wandered aimlessly through Binance’s spot market, flipping through one coin after another. When SAND dropped by more than ninety percent, the comments section went silent—no one discussed it, no one believed in it. He clicked in and glanced at it. “This crappy project is probably going to go to zero,” he thought, and shut the page, chasing another trending meme coin instead.
After that, he replayed it in his mind every day.
SAND bounced back from 0.008—0.01, 0.02, 0.03. When it reached 0.02, he noticed it once. He thought, “So what if it doubles? It fell ninety percent before—dead cat bounce.” In the group chat, he even typed, “The metaverse is already cold early,” and got a row of agreeing emoji reactions.
Later it hit 0.04.
A college classmate posted a screenshot, saying he bought SAND at 0.012 and was up threefold. Lao Chen replied “Impressive” with a straight face, but inside he felt pricked by a needle. He started opening SAND’s page more and more. Every time he saw the price rise, he felt a suffocating panic.
When it reached 0.04238—this round’s low—he finally made up his mind to buy. He opened Binance, entered the amount, ready to go all-in on 20,000 U. In the very second he confirmed the order, he suddenly hesitated. What if it dumped again? What if it was a bull trap?
He closed the page, told himself to wait a bit longer.
Then SAND kept climbing all the way to 0.07350.
If he had bought those 20,000 U at 0.04238, his value would now be close to 33,000 U. If he had bought at 0.008, those 20,000 U would have turned into nearly 170,000 U.
Seventy thousand US dollars.
Lao Chen put down his phone, walked to the balcony, and lit a cigarette. The night breeze brushed over him, and he recalled the rules he’d set for himself when he first entered the market: once you’ve made up your mind, buy—don’t hesitate. Every rule was bought with lessons paid for in real money, but he kept making the same mistake over and over.
His phone lit up again. Someone in the group was shouting that ENJ was going up too, from 0.02868 to 0.03750—almost a 30 percent surge. Lao Chen glanced at it, then flipped the phone face-down on the table.
He didn’t dare to look anymore.
Every missed chance kept telling him the same truth: in this market, the cost of hesitation is always greater than the cost of impulsiveness. But he didn’t know whether next time he’d be able to change his habit.
After finishing the cigarette, Lao Chen returned to his desk, opened Binance, and added SAND to his watchlist.
This time, he told himself, don’t miss it again.
#SAND #加密货币 #抄底