The Needle
At 3:27 a.m., Lin Yuan stared at his phone screen, his finger hovering over the buy button, trembling slightly.
RLC’s price was in free fall. From yesterday’s high of $0.94, it had plunged to $0.75, $0.60, $0.50—like a dull knife slowly slicing through the confidence of every bull. Binance Square was full of anguished posts. Some said the team was going to abandon the project; others said market makers were dumping their holdings. Most urged him to cut his losses before it was too late.
He was already down 40,000 yuan.
Three months earlier, Lin Yuan had bought RLC on the recommendation of a crypto veteran. It was trading around $0.55 at the time. Impatient with the slow gains, he went long with five times leverage. He did make a little money during the first couple of weeks. Watching a few hundred yuan trickle into his account each day, he thought he’d finally found the secret to getting rich. Then the market turned choppy. He kept adding to his position, kept increasing his leverage—from five times to ten—and finally went all in at $0.82.
Then came the flash crash.
A huge, twenty-meter green bearish candlestick sent him straight to his liquidation price. The moment his margin hit zero, it felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around his heart. Forty thousand yuan—three months’ wages—gone just like that. He turned off his phone, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling, replaying the red liquidation notification over and over in his mind.
The next day was Saturday. He shut himself in his room, neither eating nor drinking, and read RLC’s white paper from beginning to end. The project focused on decentralized AI computing. The team had real partners, and the on-chain data showed no unusual large transfers. He also checked the distribution of on-chain holdings and found that the top ten addresses hadn’t reduced their positions over the past week. In fact, they had quietly added to them.
An idea slowly took shape in his mind: What if this wasn’t an exit scam, but a shakeout?
Early Monday morning, RLC kept falling: $0.45, $0.40, $0.38. Nobody in the group chat was talking anymore. The last person still shouting “buy the dip” had been buried at $0.42. Lin Yuan’s palms were slick with sweat as he transferred the last 8,000 yuan from his bank card into his futures account.
0.3757.
He saw the needle. A long lower wick pierced the $0.37 support level, then snapped back within seconds. It was the final burst of panic selling—a sign that the bears were running out of steam. Without hesitation, he went all in with three times leverage and set his stop-loss at $0.35.
For the next forty-eight hours, he barely slept. The price slowly climbed back from $0.38 to $0.45, then $0.55, then $0.70. For every ten-cent rise, his account gained more than a thousand yuan. By the morning of the third day, RLC was back at $0.86.
He didn’t sell.
He looked at the candlestick chart and that long wick plunging down to $0.3757, and remembered his trembling finger at three in the morning. This time, he didn’t increase his leverage or go all in. He simply held on, quietly.
Later, RLC climbed to $0.94. He placed a limit order at the high, then turned off his phone.
His 8,000 yuan had become 26,000. It wasn’t much, but what he’d learned was worth far more than that.
Now, whenever he opens Binance, he takes a look at RLC’s candlestick chart. That long lower wick is like a needle, pinning itself to the most painful place in his memory—and to the place where he grew the fastest.
The most expensive lessons in crypto are never the money you lose, but the nights that almost make you give up.
#RLC #抄底 #FuturesTrading
At 3:27 a.m., Lin Yuan stared at his phone screen, his finger hovering over the buy button, trembling slightly.
RLC’s price was in free fall. From yesterday’s high of $0.94, it had plunged to $0.75, $0.60, $0.50—like a dull knife slowly slicing through the confidence of every bull. Binance Square was full of anguished posts. Some said the team was going to abandon the project; others said market makers were dumping their holdings. Most urged him to cut his losses before it was too late.
He was already down 40,000 yuan.
Three months earlier, Lin Yuan had bought RLC on the recommendation of a crypto veteran. It was trading around $0.55 at the time. Impatient with the slow gains, he went long with five times leverage. He did make a little money during the first couple of weeks. Watching a few hundred yuan trickle into his account each day, he thought he’d finally found the secret to getting rich. Then the market turned choppy. He kept adding to his position, kept increasing his leverage—from five times to ten—and finally went all in at $0.82.
Then came the flash crash.
A huge, twenty-meter green bearish candlestick sent him straight to his liquidation price. The moment his margin hit zero, it felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around his heart. Forty thousand yuan—three months’ wages—gone just like that. He turned off his phone, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling, replaying the red liquidation notification over and over in his mind.
The next day was Saturday. He shut himself in his room, neither eating nor drinking, and read RLC’s white paper from beginning to end. The project focused on decentralized AI computing. The team had real partners, and the on-chain data showed no unusual large transfers. He also checked the distribution of on-chain holdings and found that the top ten addresses hadn’t reduced their positions over the past week. In fact, they had quietly added to them.
An idea slowly took shape in his mind: What if this wasn’t an exit scam, but a shakeout?
Early Monday morning, RLC kept falling: $0.45, $0.40, $0.38. Nobody in the group chat was talking anymore. The last person still shouting “buy the dip” had been buried at $0.42. Lin Yuan’s palms were slick with sweat as he transferred the last 8,000 yuan from his bank card into his futures account.
0.3757.
He saw the needle. A long lower wick pierced the $0.37 support level, then snapped back within seconds. It was the final burst of panic selling—a sign that the bears were running out of steam. Without hesitation, he went all in with three times leverage and set his stop-loss at $0.35.
For the next forty-eight hours, he barely slept. The price slowly climbed back from $0.38 to $0.45, then $0.55, then $0.70. For every ten-cent rise, his account gained more than a thousand yuan. By the morning of the third day, RLC was back at $0.86.
He didn’t sell.
He looked at the candlestick chart and that long wick plunging down to $0.3757, and remembered his trembling finger at three in the morning. This time, he didn’t increase his leverage or go all in. He simply held on, quietly.
Later, RLC climbed to $0.94. He placed a limit order at the high, then turned off his phone.
His 8,000 yuan had become 26,000. It wasn’t much, but what he’d learned was worth far more than that.
Now, whenever he opens Binance, he takes a look at RLC’s candlestick chart. That long lower wick is like a needle, pinning itself to the most painful place in his memory—and to the place where he grew the fastest.
The most expensive lessons in crypto are never the money you lose, but the nights that almost make you give up.
#RLC #抄底 #FuturesTrading