That night, I buried 300,000 with my own hands
At 3:47 a.m., the blue glow of my phone screen lit up my face. I stared at the candlestick chart, my eyes already bloodshot.
GTC—the little coin I hadn’t even taken seriously—had surged from 0.156 to 0.393. When I shorted it, it was only at 0.18. I remember thinking that a coin nobody cared about was bound to fall back sooner or later.
My name is Chen Lei. I’m twenty-nine, and I work as a programmer in Shenzhen. I made some money in last year’s bull market and started getting cocky. A friend told me that futures were the real way to move up in the world. I believed him.
That night, GTC suddenly surged on heavy volume. My 20x leveraged short was already flashing warnings. I told myself it was just a pullback, that the big players were shaking out the market. A crypto influencer called “Old Chen in Crypto” said in the group chat that GTC had weak fundamentals and was about to plunge. I clung to his words like a lifeline. Instead of setting a stop-loss, I added to my position.
Fifty times leverage.
I put every last one of the 300,000 USDT left in my account into it.
The moment I added to my position, my hands started shaking. Not from fear, but excitement. I thought I was about to win. If it fell just another five percent, I’d make 1.5 million.
Then GTC went up.
Not just a little—it shot up like a rocket. 0.25, 0.28, 0.31. My margin ratio fell from 80 percent to 50 percent, then to 20 percent.
I started frantically adding more margin, transferring every last cent from my bank account. 80,000, then 150,000. It was all gone.
At 0.393, a line of red text popped up on my screen: Your position has been forcibly liquidated.
300,000. Gone.
I sat in front of my computer in my rented apartment. Outside the window, Shenzhen glittered with a sea of lights. In that moment, I suddenly understood: this market has never cared who you are, how much money you’ve made, or how smart you are. It cares about just one thing: whether you know to respect it.
The next morning, GTC fell back to 0.29. If I’d set a stop-loss, I would’ve lost at most 50,000. But I didn’t.
I uninstalled the futures trading app. Not because I’d moved on, but because I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.
Later, someone asked me, “Do you still trade crypto?”
I said, “Yes. But I only buy spot now. I’ll never touch leverage again.” That 300,000 was the most expensive lesson I ever paid for. It taught me one thing: in this market, surviving matters ten thousand times more than making money.
#合约爆仓 #GTC #CryptoStories
At 3:47 a.m., the blue glow of my phone screen lit up my face. I stared at the candlestick chart, my eyes already bloodshot.
GTC—the little coin I hadn’t even taken seriously—had surged from 0.156 to 0.393. When I shorted it, it was only at 0.18. I remember thinking that a coin nobody cared about was bound to fall back sooner or later.
My name is Chen Lei. I’m twenty-nine, and I work as a programmer in Shenzhen. I made some money in last year’s bull market and started getting cocky. A friend told me that futures were the real way to move up in the world. I believed him.
That night, GTC suddenly surged on heavy volume. My 20x leveraged short was already flashing warnings. I told myself it was just a pullback, that the big players were shaking out the market. A crypto influencer called “Old Chen in Crypto” said in the group chat that GTC had weak fundamentals and was about to plunge. I clung to his words like a lifeline. Instead of setting a stop-loss, I added to my position.
Fifty times leverage.
I put every last one of the 300,000 USDT left in my account into it.
The moment I added to my position, my hands started shaking. Not from fear, but excitement. I thought I was about to win. If it fell just another five percent, I’d make 1.5 million.
Then GTC went up.
Not just a little—it shot up like a rocket. 0.25, 0.28, 0.31. My margin ratio fell from 80 percent to 50 percent, then to 20 percent.
I started frantically adding more margin, transferring every last cent from my bank account. 80,000, then 150,000. It was all gone.
At 0.393, a line of red text popped up on my screen: Your position has been forcibly liquidated.
300,000. Gone.
I sat in front of my computer in my rented apartment. Outside the window, Shenzhen glittered with a sea of lights. In that moment, I suddenly understood: this market has never cared who you are, how much money you’ve made, or how smart you are. It cares about just one thing: whether you know to respect it.
The next morning, GTC fell back to 0.29. If I’d set a stop-loss, I would’ve lost at most 50,000. But I didn’t.
I uninstalled the futures trading app. Not because I’d moved on, but because I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.
Later, someone asked me, “Do you still trade crypto?”
I said, “Yes. But I only buy spot now. I’ll never touch leverage again.” That 300,000 was the most expensive lesson I ever paid for. It taught me one thing: in this market, surviving matters ten thousand times more than making money.
#合约爆仓 #GTC #CryptoStories