Eight years in the cryptocurrency world, I became a mute and also a blacklist collector.

In the winter of 2019, I pulled my cousin into the group and gave him a three-page PDF with red annotations:

If ETH is below $120, buy it with your eyes closed.

He turned around and bought Dogecoin, reasoning: "It's cheap, what if?"

Three months later, Dogecoin was basically worthless, and he cried to my mom saying:

Sister didn't stop me.

I became the family scapegoat; no one handed me chopsticks during the New Year's dinner.

In April 2021, a former colleague shared her maternity leave paycheck and privately asked me:

Is there a guaranteed 20% profit?

I sent her a grayscale trust discount chart, accompanied by an 8,000-word due diligence report.

She replied: "Too long."

Two hours later, she invested all her funds in SHIB with 5x leverage.

The next day SHIB surged; her maternity leave turned into "maternity leave +1," and her husband scolded her: "You've been led astray by your colleagues."

She didn't block me; I blocked her first—afraid that seeing the words "Are you there?" would give me a heart attack.

The worst was the apprentice I guided step by step.

Last June, he had only 1800 U left in his wallet, and I said:

Treat this as an urn; you're only allowed to open 1% of it.

He followed my advice, and in 32 days, it grew to 7200 U.

At 3 AM on the 33rd day, he sent a voice message:

Master, I understand now, I want to build my own community.

I didn't reply.

On the 35th day, he went all-in on LUNA 2.0 and after liquidation asked me if I could lend him some capital.

The moment I blocked him, my fingers trembled more than when placing an order.

I wasn't deleting just a person; I was deleting the part of me from two years ago that believed "teaching" was a kind act.

In the bear market, I learned to swallow my tongue.

Some shared their gains of 300%, I liked it.

Some lost 90%, I lit a candle.

In the square, someone asked for points, and I uniformly replied:

I only understand fortune-telling, ten bucks a time.

They cursed me for pretending, I smiled—pretending is cheaper than taking the blame.

Now my daily routine only consists of a set of shortcuts:

Ctrl + S: Save trading logs.

Whether the principal is 20,000 or 2 million makes no difference; the system is the money printer:

10% profit, withdraw immediately, transfer to the bank to buy rice and cooking oil.

3% stop-loss, automatic shutdown; a black screen is more refreshing than any motivational quote.

The cryptocurrency graveyard operates 24 hours; if you want to survive, you must first lock yourself up:

Ears locked from "inside information"

Eyes locked from "wealth freedom screenshots"

Fingers locked from "adding another knife"

What remains are the living.

Nice to meet you all, but I focus on Ethereum and Bitcoin contract spot ambushes; the team still has positions and speed to get on board, bringing you to become a market maker and also a winner.