The Shitcoin Trader’s Comeback
Chen was an honest, hardworking man. He’d spent ten years working at an electronics factory in Shenzhen, and the first thing he did every payday was open Binance. He’d been trading crypto for three years, mostly losing money, and had only 200 U left in his account.
One night, after working overtime until two in the morning, Chen lay on his dorm bed scrolling through Binance Square and spotted a token called OGN on the trending list. It was priced at just $0.03, with a pitifully small market cap, yet the comments were going wild. Some people said the project was working on Web3 identity verification; others claimed whales were quietly accumulating.
Chen hesitated. His last experience buying a shitcoin, PEPE, was still fresh in his mind: he’d put in 5,000 yuan and ended up with just 300. But this time felt different. OGN’s price kept bouncing around $0.031, and trading volume suddenly surged to $25 million, as if something big were about to happen.
“It’s only 200 U anyway. If I lose it all, so be it.” Gritting his teeth, Chen went all in at $0.032.
The next day at work, Chen was on edge, checking his phone every five minutes. At three in the afternoon, OGN climbed to $0.038. His heart raced, and his finger hovered over the sell button. But a voice in his head said, “Wait a little longer.”
By the time he got back to the dorm that evening, OGN had surged to $0.043. Chen’s hands were shaking. His 200 U had turned into 270 U. He remembered buying OSMO the year before: he hadn’t sold at $0.05, and it had fallen all the way back to $0.01. This time, he’d learned his lesson. He decisively sold everything at $0.042.
The moment the 270 U landed in his account, Chen let out a long breath. He’d only made 70 U—about half a day’s wages—but the thrill of nailing the exit felt better than anything.
Later, OGN fell back to $0.038. Chen looked at the candlestick chart, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. He knew this wasn’t a get-rich-quick story, but he’d finally learned one thing: take your profits on small-cap coins and get out. Greed is the biggest enemy of all.
That night, Chen treated himself to an extra chicken drumstick. 270 U wasn’t much, but in his three years of trading crypto, it was the first time he truly felt he understood the market.
#OGN #土狗币 #Nailed the exit at the top
Chen was an honest, hardworking man. He’d spent ten years working at an electronics factory in Shenzhen, and the first thing he did every payday was open Binance. He’d been trading crypto for three years, mostly losing money, and had only 200 U left in his account.
One night, after working overtime until two in the morning, Chen lay on his dorm bed scrolling through Binance Square and spotted a token called OGN on the trending list. It was priced at just $0.03, with a pitifully small market cap, yet the comments were going wild. Some people said the project was working on Web3 identity verification; others claimed whales were quietly accumulating.
Chen hesitated. His last experience buying a shitcoin, PEPE, was still fresh in his mind: he’d put in 5,000 yuan and ended up with just 300. But this time felt different. OGN’s price kept bouncing around $0.031, and trading volume suddenly surged to $25 million, as if something big were about to happen.
“It’s only 200 U anyway. If I lose it all, so be it.” Gritting his teeth, Chen went all in at $0.032.
The next day at work, Chen was on edge, checking his phone every five minutes. At three in the afternoon, OGN climbed to $0.038. His heart raced, and his finger hovered over the sell button. But a voice in his head said, “Wait a little longer.”
By the time he got back to the dorm that evening, OGN had surged to $0.043. Chen’s hands were shaking. His 200 U had turned into 270 U. He remembered buying OSMO the year before: he hadn’t sold at $0.05, and it had fallen all the way back to $0.01. This time, he’d learned his lesson. He decisively sold everything at $0.042.
The moment the 270 U landed in his account, Chen let out a long breath. He’d only made 70 U—about half a day’s wages—but the thrill of nailing the exit felt better than anything.
Later, OGN fell back to $0.038. Chen looked at the candlestick chart, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. He knew this wasn’t a get-rich-quick story, but he’d finally learned one thing: take your profits on small-cap coins and get out. Greed is the biggest enemy of all.
That night, Chen treated himself to an extra chicken drumstick. 270 U wasn’t much, but in his three years of trading crypto, it was the first time he truly felt he understood the market.
#OGN #土狗币 #Nailed the exit at the top