Last Wednesday morning, when I opened my eyes, the numbers popping up on my phone made me rub my eyes three times—there was suddenly an extra six-digit number in my account, which converts to exactly 320,000 yuan. But unlike three years ago when I would have slammed the table and shouted for my roommate to drink, I instead opened the app store and deleted the trading app that I had used for eight years.
As an 'old hand' who has spent eight springs and autumns in the crypto circle in Hangzhou, I have seen the K-line plunge at three in the morning and tasted the ecstasy of doubling my position, but in the end, all that remains is a gradually thinning crown (now I dare not use my nails to scratch when washing my hair), stubborn dark circles (I have to layer concealer three times), and a heart that has learned to 'keep quiet' after being beaten by the market.
In 2016, I came in with 5000 yuan as capital; back then, I couldn't even tell the difference between spot and contract trading. When I first faced a margin call, I cried downstairs in my apartment complex, feeling like I had thrown half a year's salary into the water. But after crying, I picked up my phone again, took screenshots of every transaction record, and saved them in a folder named 'Leek Growth Diary'. Over four years, without any so-called 'insider information', nor relying on 'rumors' for speculation, I used the 'dumbest' method—reviewing for four hours every day, breaking down every operation to the minute chart, even recording my heart rate at the moment of placing an order.
Later, when my capital rolled into seven figures, I became even more afraid. Because I’ve seen too many people who were flaunting their profits on social media yesterday, only to blow up their accounts today due to leverage; I’ve also heard too many 'get rich overnight' myths, which ultimately turned into 'zero overnight' jokes. The six bloody lessons I’ve accumulated over these eight years, I’m sharing with you from the bottom of my heart today; if I can help even one person, it’s worth it:
Trading volume is the ECG of the market; don’t let price lead you by the nose. Prices rise slowly like climbing stairs, but fall quickly like a slide; blindly chasing the rise during such times is like delivering your head to someone. I've seen it too many times: a popular asset surges 5 points in the morning, then slowly falls back to its original position; the comments section is filled with wails of 'buying at half-mountain'; and once a significant drop occurs at the peak, the market is shouting 'run', don’t hesitate.
A sudden drop is never a gift, but rather a 'follow-up strike'. Many beginners get excited when they suddenly drop by 10 points, thinking they've 'found a treasure', only to realize that the slow rebound after a sudden drop is actually the major players retreating while fighting. Remember: there is no 'floor price' in the market; beneath the floor, there is often a basement, and below the basement, there might even be eighteen layers of hell.
The most feared thing at a high position is 'silence'. An increase in volume does not necessarily indicate a peak, but a significant decrease in volume at a high position must be taken seriously. It's like a noisy tavern suddenly becoming quiet; the next moment could be chaos with bottles breaking. Last year, a certain asset rose to a historical high and then consolidated with decreasing volume for three consecutive days. At that time, I cleared half of my position, and sure enough, on the fourth day, it directly plunged by 15 points.
At the bottom, observe resilience; a single instance of increased volume is not trustworthy. An occasional increase in volume may be a 'smoke screen' set by the major players to lure in more investors. Only after a sustained decrease in volume followed by consecutive increases in volume can it be considered a real 'buying signal'. It's like budding in spring; it must first endure a period of low temperatures before slowly emerging; you can't rush it.
The candlestick is the result, but the trading volume is the truth. The candlestick only tells you whether it has 'risen or fallen', but the trading volume can restore the scene at that moment—was it retail investors frantically entering the market, or major players quietly offloading? Is it panic selling or rational adjustment? Only by looking at the candlestick alongside the trading volume can you understand the 'subtext' of the market.
Shedding emotions is the instinct for survival. Those who can survive and make money in this market are never 'prediction gods', but rather 'doers + clear-headed individuals'. When it's time to act, don’t hesitate; for example, if you see a clear buying signal, get on board decisively; when it's time to cut losses, don’t linger, just like realizing a relationship isn’t suitable; breaking up in time is always better than dragging it out until you are battered and bruised.
This time when 320,000 yuan arrived, I stared at the screen for ten minutes, and suddenly it clicked: wealth has always been a 'mirror image' of cognition; the money you can earn will never exceed your understanding of the market. What have I lost over these eight years? I’ve lost the youth that didn’t require staying up late, I’ve lost the stability of eating on time, and I’ve even lost a head of black hair; but what have I gained? I’ve gained the ability to stay calm amidst fluctuations, I’ve gained clarity that isn’t swayed by emotions, and I’ve gained the confidence to say 'I can do it' even if I have to start over.
Now, every morning, I no longer look at the market first; instead, I go downstairs to the park to practice Tai Chi for half an hour (that’s right, those born in the 90s have started to focus on health), and then I come back to write my review notes. When someone asks me, 'Can I still enter the market now?', I can’t give you a specific answer, but I can tell you: don’t think about 'getting rich overnight'; think about 'how to survive in the market for ten years'.
