A Copy-Trading Disaster
At three in the morning, Chen Hao’s phone screen was glowing. A post had just popped up on Binance Square.
“ZK’s zero-knowledge proof sector is about to take off. I’m already all in around 0.014, with a target of 0.05.”
The poster was a crypto influencer Chen had followed for six months, “Old K On-Chain.” He had 80,000 followers, and all his analyses seemed well-researched. NIL, which he’d recommended earlier, had risen from 0.03 to 0.089—nearly tripling. Chen looked at the 20,000 U sitting in his account and gritted his teeth.
“I’ll follow his lead this time. I’ll take five thousand in profit and call it a day.”
At 0.016, he opened a 10x leveraged long position on ZK, with a position size of 20,000 U. The candlesticks on the screen were still inching upward, and he went to bed feeling pleased with himself.
When he woke up the next day, ZK had risen to 0.0188, and his account was showing an unrealized profit of three thousand. Excited, Chen took a screenshot and posted it on his social feed with the caption, “Follow the right person, make the right moves.” Old K posted again on Square: “Add to your position! This run is headed to at least 0.05. Every pullback is a chance to get in.”
Chen believed him. He added to his position with his unrealized profits, bringing it up to 30,000 U, and cranked his leverage up to 20x.
On the third day, ZK suddenly plunged from 0.0188 to 0.0148. Chen stared at the screen, his fingers trembling. He tried to reassure himself: Old K had said a pullback was an opportunity. But the price didn’t stop. 0.014, 0.013, 0.012. A liquidation notice popped up.
He frantically combed through Old K’s old posts, hoping to find a single piece of advice to “cut losses.” There was none. Every post said “add to your position,” “go all in,” or “charge in.”
When the final liquidation candle swept through 0.0118, Chen’s account was wiped out. Thirty thousand U, gone.
He slumped in his chair and opened Old K’s profile. The comments under the “target 0.05” post had already exploded. Hundreds of people were cursing him. One said they’d lost 50,000; another said they’d blown their wife’s dowry. Old K’s latest post read: “There are always opportunities in the market. Reset your mindset and start again.”
Chen gave a bitter smile. Old K had already exited his position at 0.019. All that talk about adding to positions had just been a way to get others to buy his bags.
He deleted the accounts he followed on Binance Square and turned off his phone. Daylight had broken outside. Beijing’s rush hour was as crowded as ever, and no one knew that this young man had lost 30,000 yuan in the early hours of the morning.
Three months later, ZK rose to 0.025. Chen didn’t touch futures again. He put the rest of his wages into a savings account, and sometimes opened Binance to check the market. He only dared to buy a little spot crypto.
At last, he understood one thing: in this market, someone else’s conviction could become your grave.
#跟单翻车 #合约爆仓 #TrueStoriesFromCrypto
At three in the morning, Chen Hao’s phone screen was glowing. A post had just popped up on Binance Square.
“ZK’s zero-knowledge proof sector is about to take off. I’m already all in around 0.014, with a target of 0.05.”
The poster was a crypto influencer Chen had followed for six months, “Old K On-Chain.” He had 80,000 followers, and all his analyses seemed well-researched. NIL, which he’d recommended earlier, had risen from 0.03 to 0.089—nearly tripling. Chen looked at the 20,000 U sitting in his account and gritted his teeth.
“I’ll follow his lead this time. I’ll take five thousand in profit and call it a day.”
At 0.016, he opened a 10x leveraged long position on ZK, with a position size of 20,000 U. The candlesticks on the screen were still inching upward, and he went to bed feeling pleased with himself.
When he woke up the next day, ZK had risen to 0.0188, and his account was showing an unrealized profit of three thousand. Excited, Chen took a screenshot and posted it on his social feed with the caption, “Follow the right person, make the right moves.” Old K posted again on Square: “Add to your position! This run is headed to at least 0.05. Every pullback is a chance to get in.”
Chen believed him. He added to his position with his unrealized profits, bringing it up to 30,000 U, and cranked his leverage up to 20x.
On the third day, ZK suddenly plunged from 0.0188 to 0.0148. Chen stared at the screen, his fingers trembling. He tried to reassure himself: Old K had said a pullback was an opportunity. But the price didn’t stop. 0.014, 0.013, 0.012. A liquidation notice popped up.
He frantically combed through Old K’s old posts, hoping to find a single piece of advice to “cut losses.” There was none. Every post said “add to your position,” “go all in,” or “charge in.”
When the final liquidation candle swept through 0.0118, Chen’s account was wiped out. Thirty thousand U, gone.
He slumped in his chair and opened Old K’s profile. The comments under the “target 0.05” post had already exploded. Hundreds of people were cursing him. One said they’d lost 50,000; another said they’d blown their wife’s dowry. Old K’s latest post read: “There are always opportunities in the market. Reset your mindset and start again.”
Chen gave a bitter smile. Old K had already exited his position at 0.019. All that talk about adding to positions had just been a way to get others to buy his bags.
He deleted the accounts he followed on Binance Square and turned off his phone. Daylight had broken outside. Beijing’s rush hour was as crowded as ever, and no one knew that this young man had lost 30,000 yuan in the early hours of the morning.
Three months later, ZK rose to 0.025. Chen didn’t touch futures again. He put the rest of his wages into a savings account, and sometimes opened Binance to check the market. He only dared to buy a little spot crypto.
At last, he understood one thing: in this market, someone else’s conviction could become your grave.
#跟单翻车 #合约爆仓 #TrueStoriesFromCrypto