This spring, she asked me to go to our usual milk tea shop. Still the same spot, still the pearl milk tea, the straw poked in with a "pop" sound.
Halfway through drinking, she suddenly pushed her phone in front of me. The screen was lit, and the balance was clear—2600U.
She smiled calmly, but there was a fierce determination beneath: "Either consider it tuition and leave, or rely on this little money to start over."
At that moment, I was stunned.
Not because the number was too small, but because of the long-lost light in her eyes—
not the frenzy of wanting to double it, but the certainty of "I’m no longer afraid to start again."
Later, she really changed.
No longer chasing trends, no longer listening to the square calling out orders;
She only checked the market twice a day, calculating the worst outcome before entering;
Every trade had a plan, exiting when losing, and not lingering even when making a profit.
2600U was not seen by her as a "turning point,"
but as the last lifeline.
For the first two months, there was hardly any movement;
In the third month, the account slowly climbed to five figures;
Later, compound interest began to take effect, and the rhythm became more stable.
After more than half a year, she invited me for milk tea again.
This time, she didn’t say a word, just handed me her phone.
Balance: 100,000+ U.
Not only did she gradually make up for the initial loss of 130,000,
but also quietly left over 20,000 resting in the account.
She said something that I remembered for a long time:
"It wasn't money that saved me, but I finally learned to be patient."
