Outside our neighborhood, in that cluster of office buildings, there’s a woman who still sets up a stall downstairs after ten at night to sell fried rice. Her wok clatters like crazy as she tosses it. She’s in her late forties, from Hubei, and has been in Shenzhen for over a decade. Her husband works on a renovation crew, while she runs the stall on her own—and she put a kid through college.
Last autumn, she was heading home after packing up when she passed the pavilion in our neighborhood and saw a few older ladies who’d finished their square dancing but hadn’t gone home. They were huddled around a phone. She wandered over to see what was going on. Apparently, in some group chat, you could tap a few times, wait for a little jump, and earn phone credit. She didn’t understand any of it. All she heard was, “Try putting in two thousand.”
And she really did put in two thousand. It wasn’t cooking—it was “tapping.” She just did whatever the group told her, without caring about leverage or candlestick charts or any of that. As she put it: “I figured it was like buying a few extra days’ worth of cooking gas.”
Then things got ridiculous. For a while, whatever it was kept doubling. She didn’t know when to cash out, and nobody told her, so she just left it there and pretended not to notice. When her daughter came home for National Day last year and asked about it, she casually opened it up to show her—and those two thousand had turned into almost sixty thousand. Right there and then, she withdrew the whole sixty thousand and paid her son’s driving-school fees and the next two years of tuition. With the little bit left over, she said she bought herself a gold ring.
I asked her later what happened to the group. She said she didn’t know; she’d left it. “People like me just aren’t cut out for that stuff.”
So what do you think? If someone has no idea what they’re doing, but somehow ends up cashing out anyway—is that luck, or does it not even count as having played?
#币圈故事 #Risk
Last autumn, she was heading home after packing up when she passed the pavilion in our neighborhood and saw a few older ladies who’d finished their square dancing but hadn’t gone home. They were huddled around a phone. She wandered over to see what was going on. Apparently, in some group chat, you could tap a few times, wait for a little jump, and earn phone credit. She didn’t understand any of it. All she heard was, “Try putting in two thousand.”
And she really did put in two thousand. It wasn’t cooking—it was “tapping.” She just did whatever the group told her, without caring about leverage or candlestick charts or any of that. As she put it: “I figured it was like buying a few extra days’ worth of cooking gas.”
Then things got ridiculous. For a while, whatever it was kept doubling. She didn’t know when to cash out, and nobody told her, so she just left it there and pretended not to notice. When her daughter came home for National Day last year and asked about it, she casually opened it up to show her—and those two thousand had turned into almost sixty thousand. Right there and then, she withdrew the whole sixty thousand and paid her son’s driving-school fees and the next two years of tuition. With the little bit left over, she said she bought herself a gold ring.
I asked her later what happened to the group. She said she didn’t know; she’d left it. “People like me just aren’t cut out for that stuff.”
So what do you think? If someone has no idea what they’re doing, but somehow ends up cashing out anyway—is that luck, or does it not even count as having played?
#币圈故事 #Risk