Eight years ago, I worked in an electronics factory in Pi County, Chengdu.
Assembly line, incandescent lights, three shifts, living in a dormitory with 8 bunk beds, the iron frame bed creaked as soon as I turned over.
Monthly salary of 4000, to put it nicely, it’s stable; to put it bluntly, it’s a life that you can see the end of at a glance.
At that time, what I excelled at wasn’t technology, but calculating costs.
I saved on breakfast as much as I could, only dared to add one egg to the 10 yuan lunch box,
and had instant noodles with pickled vegetables for dinner, even reluctant to use the entire seasoning packet.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it, but I was afraid of running out of money by the end of the month.
I pinched and counted like this for three whole years,
before I saved up 100,000 yuan in my bank account.
That day I stared at the balance for a long time, and for the first time, a thought popped into my mind:
If this goes on, I might live my whole life stuck between the dormitory and the assembly line.
Also that year, I heard someone talk about the cryptocurrency circle for the first time.
Some said it was a trend, some said it was a scythe; I didn’t understand,
but I was clear about one thing—
this was one of the few tracks I could access without needing to rely on connections.
At first, I didn’t dare to touch that 100,000.
That was a sense of security earned from three years of youth.
I worked the night shift while using an old phone to check the market,
and took notes on price fluctuations and lessons learned,
scolding myself with “don’t rush” every time I made a mistake.
Later I understood,
that truly changing your fate isn’t about a moment of impulse,
but whether you are willing to leave a possibility for the future when you are at your poorest, most exhausted, and have no way out.
