The Needle
At 3:17 a.m., Acheng’s phone buzzed.
Half-asleep, he reached for it. It was a price alert from Binance: RLC had dropped to 0.3710. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must have misread it. The decentralized machine-learning project had been above 0.8 not long ago. In less than a month, its price had been cut in half, then cut in half again. No one in the group chat had spoken for ages.
Acheng rolled over, ready to go back to sleep. But his finger hovered above the screen, unable to tap.
He remembered chasing PEPE last year. Everyone in the group chat had been yelling, “Buy now!” Afraid of missing out, he went all in with 8,000 yuan at the very peak. When he woke up the next day, only 3,000 yuan was left in his account. He never wanted to relive that feeling—the numbers falling, his finger trembling, yet being unable to bring himself to sell.
But this time was different.
He checked the on-chain data. Over the past week, the number of RLC holder addresses had quietly grown by more than 400. The big players hadn’t bailed—in fact, they were buying. The development team was still putting out updates, and there hadn’t been a single day without a commit on GitHub. The price had fallen so far, but the fundamentals hadn’t changed.
Acheng sat up.
He split the 20,000 U left in his account into five parts and placed three buy orders between 0.37 and 0.39. The first filled at 0.39, the second at 0.375, and the third didn’t fill. The price bounced back.
In the days that followed, he barely checked the charts. He went to work, ate, and squeezed onto the subway as usual. Only now and then, late at night, would he open Binance and check that the number was still there.
It was. And it was slowly climbing.
0.42, 0.48, 0.55.
People started talking in the group chat again.
At 0.60, someone said the rebound was over and it was time to sell. Acheng didn’t move. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sell; he knew he’d sold too early last time. He’d cut his PEPE position at 0.00003, and later the coin went up tenfold. This time, he wanted to see if he could hold on.
0.7187.
That was the price this morning. Acheng stared at the screen. His unrealized gains were close to 100%. His 20,000 U had become almost 40,000.
He didn’t get excited, post on social media, or call out a trade in the group chat. He simply closed the app calmly and went to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of noodles.
Outside the window, dawn had broken.
He thought of the buzz at 3:17 a.m., and of his finger hesitating above the screen. That needle that had plunged to 0.3710 hadn’t jolted the market awake. It had jolted him awake.
In this market, fear costs more than tuition. And the most valuable thing is still daring to reach out while the fear is there.
#RLC #抄底 #FuturesLiquidation
At 3:17 a.m., Acheng’s phone buzzed.
Half-asleep, he reached for it. It was a price alert from Binance: RLC had dropped to 0.3710. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must have misread it. The decentralized machine-learning project had been above 0.8 not long ago. In less than a month, its price had been cut in half, then cut in half again. No one in the group chat had spoken for ages.
Acheng rolled over, ready to go back to sleep. But his finger hovered above the screen, unable to tap.
He remembered chasing PEPE last year. Everyone in the group chat had been yelling, “Buy now!” Afraid of missing out, he went all in with 8,000 yuan at the very peak. When he woke up the next day, only 3,000 yuan was left in his account. He never wanted to relive that feeling—the numbers falling, his finger trembling, yet being unable to bring himself to sell.
But this time was different.
He checked the on-chain data. Over the past week, the number of RLC holder addresses had quietly grown by more than 400. The big players hadn’t bailed—in fact, they were buying. The development team was still putting out updates, and there hadn’t been a single day without a commit on GitHub. The price had fallen so far, but the fundamentals hadn’t changed.
Acheng sat up.
He split the 20,000 U left in his account into five parts and placed three buy orders between 0.37 and 0.39. The first filled at 0.39, the second at 0.375, and the third didn’t fill. The price bounced back.
In the days that followed, he barely checked the charts. He went to work, ate, and squeezed onto the subway as usual. Only now and then, late at night, would he open Binance and check that the number was still there.
It was. And it was slowly climbing.
0.42, 0.48, 0.55.
People started talking in the group chat again.
At 0.60, someone said the rebound was over and it was time to sell. Acheng didn’t move. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sell; he knew he’d sold too early last time. He’d cut his PEPE position at 0.00003, and later the coin went up tenfold. This time, he wanted to see if he could hold on.
0.7187.
That was the price this morning. Acheng stared at the screen. His unrealized gains were close to 100%. His 20,000 U had become almost 40,000.
He didn’t get excited, post on social media, or call out a trade in the group chat. He simply closed the app calmly and went to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of noodles.
Outside the window, dawn had broken.
He thought of the buzz at 3:17 a.m., and of his finger hesitating above the screen. That needle that had plunged to 0.3710 hadn’t jolted the market awake. It had jolted him awake.
In this market, fear costs more than tuition. And the most valuable thing is still daring to reach out while the fear is there.
#RLC #抄底 #FuturesLiquidation