A box of cherries cost over 200 yuan. She gave them away for five years. In the end, seven acquaintances pooled 910,500 yuan—and not a cent was left.
Tong, who had only an elementary-school education, worked as a live-in housekeeper in Nanjing. Starting around 2020, she told everyone around her that her daughter owned a supermarket, her son-in-law ran a boat-rental business, and she herself owned several properties.
Some people didn’t believe her. If she was so rich, why was she still mopping floors and cooking in other people’s homes?
She had an answer ready. She said her daughter had remarried, and she didn’t want to put her in a difficult position or burden the young couple, so she’d gone out to mop floors and cook to earn some money of her own. It wasn’t much, but it gave her peace of mind. That story covered the biggest hole in her tale—and even cast her as considerate and self-reliant. People didn’t just stop doubting her; they thought she was a tough, admirable woman. They were happy to confide in her when things came up at home.
Then she started giving things away. Whole boxes of cherries, spring bamboo shoots, hairy crabs. She’d hire a van to deliver seafood and poultry to acquaintances, employers, and market stallholders. If someone’s child got married, or someone’s elderly parent was hospitalized, she was there. She never missed a thing. Five years went by, and no one in that circle had a bad word to say about her. Not one.
Only then did she start borrowing money. She needed cash flow for her business, needed to transfer a property after a demolition, wanted to buy another place in Nanjing. The reasons all sounded perfectly ordinary.
A lot of people’s first reaction is that she was a good actress. I don’t think that’s it. The things she gave away had nothing to do with any business venture. What she was really selling was one premise: I don’t need your money. Once people believe someone doesn’t need their money, lending it stops feeling like a risk and starts feeling like a favor. It stops being an investment and becomes a helping hand. You’re not just lending money—you’re casting a vote for the person she’s made herself out to be. Just one vote.
910,500 yuan. Seven people. 130,000 yuan per person on average. Spread over five years, that’s 180,000 yuan a year. Those cherries and seafood she gave away were the only real cost of the operation—the customer acquisition expense, so to speak. Not much spent. A terrifying return. Truly terrifying.
The part that really stings comes later. It turned out Tong had long been on the court’s list of judgment defaulters, with no ability to repay a single yuan. The list is public. You can find it by searching her name on the court website. Her name had been there the whole time. Five years. Nobody bothered to look.
I don’t think that’s stupidity. It’s convenience. Checking someone’s social media is quicker than looking up court judgments. Cherries are more tangible than enforcement records. Much quicker. That one step everyone skipped ended up costing each person 130,000 yuan.
The crypto world runs this kind of persona business on a much bigger scale. A profile picture, a bio, a few screenshots of profits—that’s enough to start a group and collect money. Tong at least had to eat a few meals with people and give away a few boxes of fruit. The person on-chain doesn’t even have to show their face. Who’s behind an address? There’s no way to know. A lot of people think hackers are the biggest danger on-chain. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and that’s not where the real problem lies. The problem is right there in your own hands: at the moment you hit send, you didn’t check the contract address, or look at what that address had done in the six months before.
Block explorers and court defaulter lists are cut from the same cloth. They’re both free, out in the open, and let you dig up what someone has done in the past. The difference is that the court tells you someone has defaulted on their debts, while the blockchain tells you where every cent sent to and from an address came from and where it went. Both are more reliable than a persona. But most people still click on the profile picture. Well, it looks nice.
Before you send money from the wallet on your phone, take one more look at the address’s history. It’s more useful than hearing ten promises. Really.
She was sentenced to eleven years, fined 200,000 yuan, and ordered to repay all the losses. To this day, there’s no clear word on how much can be recovered. Those seven people will probably remember the taste of cherries for a long time.
$BTC $ENS $USDC
#保姆 #诈骗 #熟人 #Persona
Tong, who had only an elementary-school education, worked as a live-in housekeeper in Nanjing. Starting around 2020, she told everyone around her that her daughter owned a supermarket, her son-in-law ran a boat-rental business, and she herself owned several properties.
Some people didn’t believe her. If she was so rich, why was she still mopping floors and cooking in other people’s homes?
She had an answer ready. She said her daughter had remarried, and she didn’t want to put her in a difficult position or burden the young couple, so she’d gone out to mop floors and cook to earn some money of her own. It wasn’t much, but it gave her peace of mind. That story covered the biggest hole in her tale—and even cast her as considerate and self-reliant. People didn’t just stop doubting her; they thought she was a tough, admirable woman. They were happy to confide in her when things came up at home.
Then she started giving things away. Whole boxes of cherries, spring bamboo shoots, hairy crabs. She’d hire a van to deliver seafood and poultry to acquaintances, employers, and market stallholders. If someone’s child got married, or someone’s elderly parent was hospitalized, she was there. She never missed a thing. Five years went by, and no one in that circle had a bad word to say about her. Not one.
Only then did she start borrowing money. She needed cash flow for her business, needed to transfer a property after a demolition, wanted to buy another place in Nanjing. The reasons all sounded perfectly ordinary.
A lot of people’s first reaction is that she was a good actress. I don’t think that’s it. The things she gave away had nothing to do with any business venture. What she was really selling was one premise: I don’t need your money. Once people believe someone doesn’t need their money, lending it stops feeling like a risk and starts feeling like a favor. It stops being an investment and becomes a helping hand. You’re not just lending money—you’re casting a vote for the person she’s made herself out to be. Just one vote.
910,500 yuan. Seven people. 130,000 yuan per person on average. Spread over five years, that’s 180,000 yuan a year. Those cherries and seafood she gave away were the only real cost of the operation—the customer acquisition expense, so to speak. Not much spent. A terrifying return. Truly terrifying.
The part that really stings comes later. It turned out Tong had long been on the court’s list of judgment defaulters, with no ability to repay a single yuan. The list is public. You can find it by searching her name on the court website. Her name had been there the whole time. Five years. Nobody bothered to look.
I don’t think that’s stupidity. It’s convenience. Checking someone’s social media is quicker than looking up court judgments. Cherries are more tangible than enforcement records. Much quicker. That one step everyone skipped ended up costing each person 130,000 yuan.
The crypto world runs this kind of persona business on a much bigger scale. A profile picture, a bio, a few screenshots of profits—that’s enough to start a group and collect money. Tong at least had to eat a few meals with people and give away a few boxes of fruit. The person on-chain doesn’t even have to show their face. Who’s behind an address? There’s no way to know. A lot of people think hackers are the biggest danger on-chain. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and that’s not where the real problem lies. The problem is right there in your own hands: at the moment you hit send, you didn’t check the contract address, or look at what that address had done in the six months before.
Block explorers and court defaulter lists are cut from the same cloth. They’re both free, out in the open, and let you dig up what someone has done in the past. The difference is that the court tells you someone has defaulted on their debts, while the blockchain tells you where every cent sent to and from an address came from and where it went. Both are more reliable than a persona. But most people still click on the profile picture. Well, it looks nice.
Before you send money from the wallet on your phone, take one more look at the address’s history. It’s more useful than hearing ten promises. Really.
She was sentenced to eleven years, fined 200,000 yuan, and ordered to repay all the losses. To this day, there’s no clear word on how much can be recovered. Those seven people will probably remember the taste of cherries for a long time.
$BTC $ENS $USDC
#保姆 #诈骗 #熟人 #Persona