I watched my first trade for forty minutes.

100U, 5x leverage, 1% stop-loss. My reasons for entering were written in the plan: daily support level, a lower wick on the four-hour chart, and shrinking volume. Old A approved it with two words: “Go ahead.”

The moment I clicked the mouse, my heart was pounding like a drum. My position was tiny, but my sweaty palms had soaked the mouse. The market ticked up three points, and I took profit as planned. I made 3.2U.

Three bucks and twenty cents. Not even enough for a cup of milk tea. But Old A sent me a message: “Remember this feeling. How much you make doesn’t matter. What matters is making money by following the rules.”

I lost 1U on the second trade, made 2U on the third, and lost 1U on the fourth. Like ants carrying things home, I inched forward bit by bit. By my tenth trade, my account was up 11U. I stared at the number and suddenly felt ridiculous—once, I’d win or lose thousands of U on a single trade. Now I was staying up until the early hours every night for just a dozen or so U.

But Old A said, “Every U you lose now is tuition for the A9 of your future. You used to pay with your life. Now you’re paying in pocket change.”

On my fifteenth trade, I almost broke my rule.

That day, Ethereum suddenly shot up, gaining 8% in five minutes. I stared at the screen, and a voice in my head screamed, “Add to the position! Add to the position! This trade can win back everything you’ve ever lost!” My finger had already moved to the position-size field, ready to change 100U to 500U.

My phone rang. Old A had sent me a picture—it was the record of my very first trade, with a note beside it: “You made 3.2U that day and said it wasn’t enough. But if you’d traded 500U that day, you wouldn’t be here now.”

I took a deep breath, changed my position size back to 100U, and opened a long position according to plan. The market kept climbing, and I took profit. I made 4.7U.

On my twenty-second trade, I made a mistake. I forgot to set a stop-loss after entering, and by the time I noticed, I was already down 3%. I panicked for a second and thought about riding it out. But then Old A’s voice suddenly rang in my head: “A stop-loss isn’t an option. It’s breathing.” I immediately set the stop-loss and then closed the position. I lost 1.5U.

When Old A found out, he said just one thing: “Forget again next time, and you start counting from the beginning.”

The thirtieth trade. The last one.

I spent two whole hours writing up a plan, reviewing the daily, four-hour, and one-hour charts. I listed five reasons for entering, and specified my stop-loss down to two decimal places. Old A marked it: “Approved.”

I entered the trade, held the position, and took profit. I made 2.8U.

After the thirty trades, I tallied everything up: 37.6U in total profits, 22.1U in total losses, for a net gain of 15.5U. My account had gone from 500U to 515.5U.

I stared at that number, almost wanting to cry. I used to lose 50,000 yuan in three days. Now, it had taken me a whole month to make 15.5 yuan.

Old A called. “How does it feel?”

“Slow,” I said. “Way too slow.”

He smiled. “Slow is right. The people who die fastest in the market are the ones who can’t stand going slow. Do you know how I got this A8? Every time, I thought, ‘This is too slow,’ but every time, I held back and didn’t speed up.”

He paused. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you the real stuff—how to find opportunities worth trading. Those thirty trades you made before were just about learning not to lose. Now it’s time to learn how to make money.”

I held my phone as the sky outside brightened again. This time, I didn’t feel cold.

(To be continued)

【Series Preview: Series Four (Old A’s Charts: Finding Signals in the Noise)】