The Night I Shorted MAGIC
At two in the morning, Chen stared at his phone screen, his palms drenched in sweat.
MAGIC was stuck at 0.0663 USDT. It was the third time he’d checked the price that day. He could still vividly remember the decision he’d made that afternoon. At three o’clock, he’d watched MAGIC fall from 0.08 to 0.066, and he’d felt so pleased with himself. He’d posted a message in the Binance futures group: “MAGIC is done for. I’ve opened a 50x short. Just waiting to rake in the cash.”
Someone in the group replied: “Chen, you’re a legend. We’ll follow you and take our cut.”
Chen got carried away. He added all the remaining 30,000 U in his account as margin, bringing his short position to 150,000 U. With 50x leverage, every one-cent drop would earn him another 1,500. He’d even worked out the numbers in his head: if MAGIC fell to 0.05, he’d make nearly 20,000 U—enough to cover two months of mortgage payments.
His wife brought him a cup of tea. Seeing him grinning from ear to ear, she said, “Don’t get too greedy. Close the position once you’ve made enough.” Chen waved her off. “You don’t understand. I’ve got this move figured out.”
At eight that evening, MAGIC suddenly bounced. 0.07, 0.08, 0.09. Chen’s heart jumped with every rise in price. He reassured himself that it was a fake rally and that the price would soon fall again. He posted in the group: “The market makers are baiting people into buying. Don’t panic.”
But the price showed no sign of stopping. 0.10, 0.11, 0.12. Chen’s hands began to shake. He checked his liquidation price. The liquidation threshold was around 0.1285. The price was now 0.1204—just 0.0081 away from wiping him out.
He frantically started pouring money into his account. He took cash advances on his credit card, borrowed through Jiebei, and even messaged a friend: “Need money urgently. Can you lend me some for a couple of days?” His friend asked what was wrong. Chen said it was nothing, just a short-term cash-flow issue.
The money he deposited was like stones thrown into a bottomless pit. The price kept rising. 0.125, 0.126, 0.127.
At 2:15 a.m., a notification popped up on his phone: “Your MAGICUSDT perpetual contract has been liquidated.”
Chen froze. 150,000 U—three months’ wages, his child’s tuition—all gone. He slumped in his chair. The tea had gone completely cold.
The next morning, MAGIC surged to a high of 0.1285, then started to fall. If he’d held on until the afternoon, the price would have come back down to 0.11. But he was already out.
Chen deleted the Binance app and left the futures group. Then he sat alone on the balcony and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.
Three months later, his friend posted in the group: “MAGIC’s up again. It’s at 0.12 now. Who bought the dip back then?”
Chen glanced at the message, then silently turned his phone face down.
Some lessons only need to be learned once.
#MAGIC #合约爆仓 #BinanceSquare
At two in the morning, Chen stared at his phone screen, his palms drenched in sweat.
MAGIC was stuck at 0.0663 USDT. It was the third time he’d checked the price that day. He could still vividly remember the decision he’d made that afternoon. At three o’clock, he’d watched MAGIC fall from 0.08 to 0.066, and he’d felt so pleased with himself. He’d posted a message in the Binance futures group: “MAGIC is done for. I’ve opened a 50x short. Just waiting to rake in the cash.”
Someone in the group replied: “Chen, you’re a legend. We’ll follow you and take our cut.”
Chen got carried away. He added all the remaining 30,000 U in his account as margin, bringing his short position to 150,000 U. With 50x leverage, every one-cent drop would earn him another 1,500. He’d even worked out the numbers in his head: if MAGIC fell to 0.05, he’d make nearly 20,000 U—enough to cover two months of mortgage payments.
His wife brought him a cup of tea. Seeing him grinning from ear to ear, she said, “Don’t get too greedy. Close the position once you’ve made enough.” Chen waved her off. “You don’t understand. I’ve got this move figured out.”
At eight that evening, MAGIC suddenly bounced. 0.07, 0.08, 0.09. Chen’s heart jumped with every rise in price. He reassured himself that it was a fake rally and that the price would soon fall again. He posted in the group: “The market makers are baiting people into buying. Don’t panic.”
But the price showed no sign of stopping. 0.10, 0.11, 0.12. Chen’s hands began to shake. He checked his liquidation price. The liquidation threshold was around 0.1285. The price was now 0.1204—just 0.0081 away from wiping him out.
He frantically started pouring money into his account. He took cash advances on his credit card, borrowed through Jiebei, and even messaged a friend: “Need money urgently. Can you lend me some for a couple of days?” His friend asked what was wrong. Chen said it was nothing, just a short-term cash-flow issue.
The money he deposited was like stones thrown into a bottomless pit. The price kept rising. 0.125, 0.126, 0.127.
At 2:15 a.m., a notification popped up on his phone: “Your MAGICUSDT perpetual contract has been liquidated.”
Chen froze. 150,000 U—three months’ wages, his child’s tuition—all gone. He slumped in his chair. The tea had gone completely cold.
The next morning, MAGIC surged to a high of 0.1285, then started to fall. If he’d held on until the afternoon, the price would have come back down to 0.11. But he was already out.
Chen deleted the Binance app and left the futures group. Then he sat alone on the balcony and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.
Three months later, his friend posted in the group: “MAGIC’s up again. It’s at 0.12 now. Who bought the dip back then?”
Chen glanced at the message, then silently turned his phone face down.
Some lessons only need to be learned once.
#MAGIC #合约爆仓 #BinanceSquare