Jonathan 2018

Who is the boss behind the park? It's so hard to guess!
Did those black money transfers in the park use $XRP ?

Cognitive differences, no need to say much, no need to pay attention to students who speak without thinking.

为什么主页的币种信息加载不出来？持续好久了这种情况$BTC $ETH $XRP

Among the hundreds of millions of retail investors in the domestic stock market, 99% cannot make money. This is not a joke; it is an ironclad Matthew effect. Life is the same; only one or two can truly break through. There is only one Jack Ma, and only a few people will appear in each field. Yet, we dream in droves, believing we will be that 'chosen one.' When you ask why, the stock market is so cruel. As an ordinary person, what advantage do you really have?

Is there an information advantage? I used to work at a bank and was already considered the lowest level of financial professional in the system. By the time information reaches me, it’s already been passed around multiple times. You say, by the time it gets to the market vendor, what’s left? Is there a capital advantage? If you can hold onto three to five hundred thousand, you think you’re a big player, daring to compete with billions of dollars in capital, hoping to fleece them? That’s not courage; it’s ignorance.

Without information, without capital, do you have an operational advantage? They are professional teams with specialized training, systematically monitoring the market twenty-four hours a day. You haven’t even prepared a pair of swim trunks, yet you jump into the Olympic pool claiming you want to win the 100-meter championship. There is only one champion, and you don’t even know where your lane is.

Those stock market legends are just legends. What you hear are the ones who made it; what you don’t hear are the countless who were left behind on the beach. If you don’t study, don’t research, have no tools, no advantages, no team, how do you expect to make money? If you actually make money, that would be a miracle.

As a financial professional, I wouldn’t even dare to chase after rising and falling stocks. I only do regular investments, not gambling, because I know I don’t have that capability, that information, or that capital chain. What are you jumping in for? Relying on incense? Relying on luck? Thankfully, you’re not wearing swim trunks; otherwise, jumping in would wash away even your underwear. Without your underwear, your bottom line is gone.

Remember this:

Those who can make big money won’t come out to teach you; those who can sit here chatting are not winners. What Chen Xiaoqun or whatever, just listen and that’s enough. If you believe it, you’ve already lost.

If you haven’t lost your entire fortune in the stock market, you are already very fortunate.

Have you noticed that hardly anyone is saying anymore, 'gasoline cars will be completely eliminated'? When we were in school, we all heard the saying: the Earth's oil is only enough for another thirty years. What happened? As technology progressed, more and more oil fields were discovered, and the proven reserves today are enough for the world for another forty years, making 'the more we use, the more we have' a reality. Electric cars do have advantages, but the problem is—if making electric cars themselves isn't profitable, then all the advantages don't mean much to car companies.

Initially, new energy vehicles were a way to restart the global automotive landscape, but in reality, the ones who really buy into it are still domestic consumers. The enthusiasm in foreign markets is low, and only a few domestic new energy car companies can truly make a profit. Most are supported by subsidies, and once the subsidies are withdrawn, their situation immediately becomes difficult.

In the past, domestic new energy vehicles were able to beat a host of joint venture gasoline cars because, frankly, they were 'rolled out.' The problem is—if the core weapon is price competition, the first to be hit will be the gasoline car business of domestic automakers themselves. Joint venture brands were previously reluctant to fully commit to electric cars because the profits from gasoline cars were stable and they didn't want to harm their own business. But now the competition is too fierce, and their market share has also been taken away, plus over the years, the new energy supply chain has been fully opened up by domestic companies, allowing these joint venture factories to 'use it as is,' and even transfer some model development rights to domestic teams, using our supply chain to counter our own new energy.

Doesn't this feel a bit like 'using one's own spear to attack one's own shield'? That's right, they are prepared for both scenarios: if new energy succeeds, they will continue to share the pie; if new energy fails, they can still harvest the market with mature gasoline car technology. And among domestic car companies, those who continue to invest in gasoline car research and development are already few and far between.

It sounds like we want to roll all joint venture brands back home, but from the consumer's perspective, what we hope for is not for one company to dominate, but for more brands and more intense competition. Ultimately, what benefits consumers is always technology and products, not sentiment.

Have you recently felt this way – everything is quietly getting more expensive? Toothpaste used to cost a few bucks, but now a tube casually goes for thirty or forty; children's toothpaste can sell for over a hundred; shampoo with some anti-hair loss function suddenly costs dozens or hundreds more, getting pricier the more you wash, and you find your hair getting sparser; floral water used to cost four bucks a bottle when we were kids, but now even on platforms like Pinduoduo it’s over ten; cigarettes are even more outrageous, with 'daily cigarettes' that used to be a few bucks now all going for over ten; and sanitary napkins don’t even need mentioning, a few pieces can cost dozens, making you wince when you buy them. The same products are getting downgraded by manufacturers, and it’s easy to spend a hundred bucks for a month’s supply.

More ironically, things like houses and cars that everyone can’t afford are decreasing in price, while utilities, marinated snacks, bread, and small snacks that we use daily are soaring in cost. Buying a small sweet potato costs ten, and ordering marinated snacks weighs in at ninety-nine point nine; the rising prices are making people question life.

But the key point is – this wave of price increases is not an accident, but a policy direction. In May this year, the statistics bureau hinted: too low prices will drag down businesses, compress profits, and suppress employment; in August, the central bank directly made 'promoting reasonable price recovery' its top goal, though most people didn’t realize what that meant. As a result, three months later, water bills, electricity bills, subway ticket prices, and tuition fees are all on the rise, with CPI climbing for six consecutive months, making the entire society gently raise prices.

The logic is actually very simple: if prices can’t go up, businesses can’t make money, which means they can only lower wages and lay off workers; if businesses aren’t making money, ordinary people also can’t earn money, and everyone will be even more reluctant to spend, making the economy colder. Only by allowing things to 'rise gently a little' can businesses feel there’s profit to be made, willing to expand production and hire, and then everyone can afford to spend, allowing this cycle to move.

But the most awkward thing is, large consumer spending isn’t increasing, while the prices of necessities are soaring the most. When capital can’t move in the high-end market, it will reach into the areas with the least choice – people’s livelihoods.

So the real question isn’t 'Will there be increases?', but –

Can we avoid constantly raising necessities and let non-essentials bear a bit more of the cost?

This is too much, isn't it? The normal lives of people have been disrupted $DOGE , what is this anti-fraud and anti-scam for, sacrificing everyone's daily convenience as the cost?

Why is there a firm prohibition against everyone touching coins? Even spot trading is not allowed, why, what are we preventing, what are we so afraid of?

If you haven't intuitively felt the class gap in this society, you really should take a trip to Shanghai Disneyland. On the surface, it is a fairy tale paradise, but in essence, it is a modern miniature city that prominently displays consumption levels. Here, everyone will unconsciously undergo an 'invisible identity education.' Unlike the seemingly egalitarian queuing system in domestic tourist attractions, Disneyland starts from the bottom-level design by dividing people into three worlds: the lowest level consists of visitors who only buy tickets. They form the backdrop of the park, and their queuing, sunbathing, and tired postures are part of the scarcity feeling of the paradise, used to contrast with others who are 'much faster and much easier.' The middle level consists of those who have purchased fast passes; they spend several times the premium to buy time, efficiency, and a sense of dignity of 'not waiting with the masses.' As for the top-level world, those staying in park hotels and purchasing premium services not only do not queue but also receive priority care from accommodation, entry to the park, and dining—all in one seamless experience. They are not here to play; they are here to affirm their identity.

This logic is entirely the same as in the luxury goods industry. The value of a Hermès bag has never been in the leather but in what it can help you declare: 'Who am I?' Regular tickets are like Longchamp's nylon bags—practical but do not provide identity; fast passes are like Coach, the kind with a visible logo; all-inclusive services are akin to walking around the park with a Kelly bag, being looked at, being given way, and being silently acknowledged.

Disney says 'every girl is a princess,' which sounds gentle and equal, but the real rules of the park are very frank—princesses need to spend money to be crowned. Those who only buy basic tickets, waiting forty minutes to play a five-minute attraction, will understand where the sting comes from when the fast pass walks right past them.

So if you’ve been lacking motivation lately, a trip to Disneyland will really awaken you. It is a social experiment that visualizes consumerism and class logic, telling the most naked reality under the guise of a fairy tale: we are not only consuming goods but also consuming our own positions. And in this show, everyone inevitably walks into the route that the system has long prepared for you.

During this period, the storage chip market really has a hint of blatant competition. Domestic smartphone manufacturers are all struggling, with inventory for Xiaomi, OPPO, and vivo generally below two months, and some even only have three weeks left, forcing them to collectively suspend purchases. The upstream situation is even more exaggerated, with Micron, Samsung, and SK Hynix's quotes skyrocketing, recently seeing a direct surge of 50%. It's not just a price increase; it's a money grab, overshadowing Nvidia's momentum. Micron is making a fortune this year, with net profits exceeding 60 billion in fiscal year 2025, a tenfold increase year-on-year, and its stock price has tripled since April, with storage products rising more steeply than gold. For example, DDR4 8GB memory sticks were over two hundred at the beginning of the year, now they are four to five hundred; DDR5 is even more outrageous, directly tripling from before. All these price increases will ultimately be passed on to consumers, making phones, computers, tablets, and smart home devices all several hundred to a thousand more expensive.

But why is the increase so crazy? Simply put, this wave is not caused by smartphone manufacturers but by AI competing for production capacity. Storage chips are used to store data, and AI is a super glutton, swallowing up the capacity originally allocated for smartphones, computers, and cars. Look at giants like Google, Microsoft, and Amazon, who plan to spend 28 trillion next year to build AI data centers, while Alibaba is investing 380 billion over three years in China. All these resources are built on storage, directly squeezing out the share of consumer electronics.

What's worse is that this price surge is not just a temporary trend; SMIC has already issued a warning: in the coming year, the automotive and smartphone industries will face storage shortages, and prices will continue to rise until next year, or even longer. When all manufacturers run out of inventory, new product prices will only be higher, not lower.

In simple terms, if you plan to change your phone, change your computer, set up a NAS, or engage in smart home activities, the next two years may just see prices get more expensive the longer you wait. The super cycle in the storage industry is already on the way, and it is quietly taking the first cut from everyone's wallet.

This year's consumer market is really a bit strange. On one side, major platforms remain silent about GMV during Double Eleven, as if whoever speaks first loses; on the other side, Jay Chou is holding a four-day concert in Tianjin, which can directly drive thirty billion in consumption. At the same time, those once bustling live streaming rooms have suddenly gone quiet, and top streamers earning millions monthly have either started creating content or simply disappeared. The income of streamers in a certain live streaming base in Hangzhou has dropped by sixty percent year-on-year, and the elimination rate of small and medium-sized streamers exceeds eighty percent; this is not your illusion.

Many people's first reaction to this scene is: it's over, e-commerce is failing, are people starting to downgrade their consumption? But the real answer is exactly the opposite—not a downgrade, but a shift in the direction of money.

If you look back at those who are truly wealthy, they dress so ordinarily like the uncle next door—Mark Zuckerberg in a gray T-shirt, Lei Jun in a black polo, so plain that you would think they are even thriftier than you. But their annual golf membership fees are six figures, private coaching sessions cost thousands, and they frequently fly to Japan for full-body check-ups. The rich don’t avoid spending money; they just spend it on things that others can't see: experiences, services, time, health.

The path of ordinary people is actually quite similar. When earning five thousand a month, all money is spent on clothes, mobile phones, and daily necessities; as income increases, the proportion spent on goods actually decreases, because simply 'buying things' can no longer satisfy their needs.

And precisely this year, the ceiling of e-commerce has hit the loudest. The penetration rate in 2024 dropped from 27.6% to 26.8%, and remained around 25% in the first eight months of 2025, marking the first continuous decline in over twenty years. Even Pinduoduo's physical GMV growth rate is close to stagnation, and Douyin has discovered the '8% red line'—once there is too much physical content, user retention immediately drops.

Money hasn’t disappeared; it has just flowed from the 'stockpiling era' to the 'experience era.' This is not a retreat, but an upgrade.

In the next ten years, selling goods will become increasingly difficult, but services that can provide real experiences, solve emotions, and enhance quality of life will grow larger and larger. The real opportunity lies here.

Sometimes I really envy others, where a word from their parents can arrange their jobs and help them acquire homes and cars, as if life comes with a built-in cushion.

But for those of us without support, from the moment we were born, we can only grit our teeth and push forward. The most ironic thing is that even though we work harder and are more aware, there are always some who like to attribute all problems to their original family.

When having a bad temper, blame the original family; when unable to date well, blame the original family; even when struggling at work, blame the original family. But if you think carefully, our parents' generation had original families that were many times more difficult than ours.

They really struggled to have enough to eat and wear, with many siblings, endless farm work, and arguments that weren't just arguments but physical fights. Being able to eat a piece of braised pork during the New Year was enough to make them happy for half a day. Surviving in that era was a victory, and being able to eat enough was happiness.

They had no sense of boundaries, no emotional education, and never learned how to love others. But that’s not an excuse; they truly didn’t know how to be parents, yet they did their best. At least they succeeded in ensuring we wouldn’t have to return to their days of hardship.

However, this kind of effort is different from the gentleness we desire. We need to understand but not replicate, respect but not obey. Life is always our own; the original family is a starting point, not a shackle. What parents cannot give us, we can only make up for ourselves. And every step you take forward is actually pulling yourself little by little out of the shadows of the old era.

Have you ever noticed something particularly counterintuitive: Poor people's money is easy to deceive but hard to earn; rich people's money is easy to earn but hard to deceive.

Why? Because the people who lack money are more anxious. They are impatient and cannot wait for long-term returns. If you tell them to "work steadily" or "start with small money $XRP ," they won't listen. They are more easily ignited by stories of "getting rich overnight"—but who can tell such stories except for scammers?

However, if you really want to "make money" from poor people, the difficulty is particularly high. They are stingy, afraid of being deceived, and love to take advantage; the moment there is any sign of trouble, they run away. If you sell them a 28 yuan tomato scrambled egg, they can break down the cost for you: two tomatoes and three eggs, why sell it for 28? These people are not incapable of making money; they only see the small benefits in front of them.

Rich people are completely the opposite.

They don’t care who makes money off them; they care about: saving time, saving energy, saving trouble, and improving efficiency. If you give them a solution that saves trouble and improves efficiency, they will immediately pay. If you give them an opportunity to earn a 10% return, they can hardly contain their excitement.

This is why:

Making money from poor people is a scale business; making money from rich people is a value business.

A platform that started by "taking advantage" can achieve a market value of hundreds of billions, while those who do high-end customization will always serve only a few hundred clients.

Once you understand this, you will know—money has never been about "which type of person is easier to earn from," but rather whether you are selling "cheap" or "value."

When you truly step out of the country, you will realize a cruel but real fact: ordinary Chinese people have a much weaker actual status in the world than we think. The most intuitive example is customs. As a worker who has spent many years in Europe, I have seen too many Chinese travelers being stopped, subjected to secondary checks, taken to a small room to check their phones, asked about their occupations, and have their bags searched, while people of other skin colors are more likely to pass through customs directly. The reason is simple; it's not that you did something wrong, but rather they estimate 'you might be carrying prohibited items.' These stereotypes are not formed in a day.

The second issue is that the influence of the Chinese language is greatly exaggerated. Marketing accounts say 'foreigners are all learning Chinese,' but the reality is that there are more than 21 million non-native Spanish speakers, while most foreigners who are truly committed to learning Chinese are doing so mainly for business or traffic, not for cultural recognition. We are familiar with Shakespeare, while they have almost no concept of Li Bai or Su Shi.

The third issue is the gap in brand trust. You think Huawei and Xiaomi are popular globally? But in Europe, Huawei's market share in Western Europe is only in single digits; Apple and Samsung are the default choices. In the first half of 2025, the percentage of domestic cars running on the streets of Germany was less than 0.5%, with Volkswagen, Mercedes-Benz, and Honda still being the mainstream.

The fourth issue is that Chinese manufacturing does not equal brand recognition. The whole world is using 'made in China,' but it's not using 'Chinese brands.' The American brands or niche trendy brands you buy likely come from Yiwu, but consumers always remember the LOGO, not the Chinese factories behind them. We are the 'production end' of the world, yet it's very difficult to become the 'value end.'

The fifth issue, which is the most painful, is that the internal competition among Chinese people has already crossed national borders. In Europe, it is not the locals who are competing with you, but the Chinese person next to you. Opening restaurants, running groups, delivering takeout, acting as shopping agents, you lower the price, I lower it even more; you work hard, I work even harder. In the end, everyone is exhausted, yet it makes the locals think 'Chinese people are taking their jobs,' and the image keeps getting worse.

Going abroad is not to envy anyone, but to see the gap clearly. Only by truly seeing the world can you see yourself clearly—we are still on the road, and this road is longer than we imagine.

Many people claim to have high cognitive ability and see far, but when it comes to making money, they are often left far behind by those they look down upon. Look at those street streamers and uncles running small businesses; they haven't read much and don't discuss any underlying logic, yet they are doing better year by year.

In contrast, those who read a lot and understand many principles spend their days analyzing risks and simulating paths, becoming increasingly hesitant to act, and the more they simulate, the more they trap themselves in place.

High cognitive ability can sometimes be a self-imposed limitation. You are too aware of the risks, so you don't even dare to invest 100U in $BTC ; you think the project is too low-quality, the track is too unsophisticated, the APY is not decent, and you feel like a novice if you participate. But the reality is that many wealth opportunities don't wait for you to figure them out; they come quickly and leave even faster. By the time you've finished analyzing, the market has already turned the page.

Recently, I've increasingly noticed that those who treat long-termism as a consumption logic are losing quietly.

Labubu is a typical example——

Yesterday it was in demand, today it’s a burden.

Everyone thought they picked up an "appreciating asset,"

but it turned out to be just a bubble built on emotions.

Then many people started to wake up:

Blind boxes will drop, trendy toys will drop, limited edition merchandise will drop, celebrity collaborations will drop……

But the common trick of these things is:

To make you believe you are buying the future, not toys.

And this is completely opposite to the logic of many people hoarding USDT and buying $BTC .

When the wind for Labubu stops, no one picks it up.

The stronger the wind for USDT, the more stable it is.

Because behind it stands liquidity, credit, and consensus.

Trendy toys rely on hype.

USDT relies on demand.

Let’s look at $BTC again.

The real rise is due to global liquidity, halving cycles, and institutions entering the market.

It’s not because of a statement like "it will rise,"

but because an entire logical chain supports it.

But why did Labubu drop so quickly?

Because it lacks consensus,

it only has emotions.

Trendy toys rely on "hype raising prices,"

$BTC relies on "cycles determining trends."

Trendy toys rely on finding buyers,

BTC relies on history.

Trendy toys have a lifecycle,

USDT is a cash flow entry,

BTC is a long logic asset.

More critically:

Buying Labubu is consumption,

Buying USDT is value storage,

Buying BTC is allocation.

Many people are realizing for the first time:

The so-called "long-termism consumption" ultimately causes loss of principal,

while true long-termism is always related to assets.

Trendy toys can be collected,

but cannot replace a wallet.

Blind boxes can bring surprises,

but cannot replace the sense of security of principal.

The more expensive the consumption, the more anxious;

the sturdier the hard assets, the more secure.

So those who truly wake up understand:

Rather than scrambling for a Labubu, waiting for it to retain value,

it’s better to let USDT stabilize the position first,

and then wait for the next opportunity for BTC.

By the way, I wonder how the previously popular Labubu token and Popomart token (on-chain, not RWA's Hong Kong stocks) are doing now?? Did it explode in profits??

Long-termism is not in shopping bags.

Long-termism is in your asset structure.

To judge whether the economy is good or not, you don't need to look at GDP or read research reports.

Just look at one thing — the color of the clothes people around you are wearing right now.

Sounds ridiculous? Not at all.

Let’s start with the conclusion:

The more prosperous the economy, the brighter the clothes; the more sluggish the economy, the more muted and conservative the clothes.

Looking back at history makes it clear.

In Japan during the Showa era, housing prices were high enough to buy half of America, and Tokyo was filled with flashy neon advertisements. Every frame of Sailor Moon was colorful.

That was the confidence brought by explosive economic growth.

The same was true for the United States after World War II.

In the golden age, the most popular item was the Hawaiian shirt.

Even factory workers wore floral shirts to go out for drinks after work; that atmosphere reflected a certainty about life.

China was no different.

In the 1980s, people finally stopped wearing gray jackets, and skirts came into fashion.

In the 1990s, the Hong Kong style was pursued, with high heels, earrings, and exaggerated makeup.

In the new millennium, the wardrobe of those pink ladies was basically a sample of the colors of an upward-moving economy.

But when the economy is uncertain, income anxiety runs high, and consumption shrinks, what do people wear?

The answer is very pragmatic:

Black, gray, white.

Neutral, safe, easy to match, versatile, and error-proof.

This reflects a psychological “defensive mode.”

After the pandemic, what do people consider when buying clothes?

They need clothes that can be worn to work, that can be worn to go out, that can be worn for travel photography, and preferably can withstand wind and UV rays.

Easy to match, durable, and not flashy — maximizing cost-effectiveness.

It’s not laziness; it’s a lack of security.

Businesses are the same.

In today’s environment, who would dare to blindly produce colorful designs?

Sticking to black, gray, and white is safer; if they don’t sell, they can carry over to next year, providing a more stable fallback.

Ultimately:

The act of dressing is never about aesthetics; it reflects real economic emotions.

The colors of clothes are a thermometer of social emotions.

When the streets once again become colorful, and everyone dares to wear floral patterns, to stand out, to be bold —

That will signal the return of an era.

Let’s hope that day comes soon.

Is the university still teaching and nurturing? It increasingly resembles training "unpaid workers".

Some universities today are not focused on education,

but rather operating a system of "free labor assembly line".

What volunteer hours, what practical credits, sound impressive,

but in reality, it's just making students work— the key is, no payment and no option to refuse.

Volunteer hours? Pure exploitation.

Many universities directly tie these to graduation requirements,

you must complete 20 hours or 30 hours in a year,

even if you're one minute short, you won't pass.

But what are these "volunteer" tasks?

Cleaning the streets, competing with sanitation workers for jobs;

standing at exhibitions for a day, even buying your own bottle of water;

and even more absurd—

cleaning in the library, washing dishes in the cafeteria, falsely labeled as "labor education".

To be realistic, hiring a part-time worker for a day costs at least 200 yuan,

but for students, the school just locks them in for 0.5 credits.

It couldn't be more exploitative.

As for internships, they have directly evolved into "selling people".

While the school shouts "gain experience", it sends batches of students to stand guard at assembly line factories.

Some stand for over ten hours a day,

want to take a leave? The teacher says: if you don't go, you won't get your diploma.

What's even worse is that some students quietly ask the factory:

they find out the factory pays the school 25 yuan an hour,

but students only get 19 yuan, who is pocketing the difference?

600 students, losing 6 yuan each hour,

daily working 8 hours for 3 months—

the school profits 2.6 million.

This isn’t education, it’s monetization.

Then there’s the issue of blood donation for credits—

200ml for 0.5 credits, 400ml for 1 credit,

and a bit of milk and bread as compensation.

Have you ever seen a blood donation vehicle parked outside an office building all year round?

No.

But outside the university, they are stationed year-round because it's "easy to harvest".

Last year, a student who was clearly fainting at the sight of blood still forced themselves to go,

afraid of missing the opportunity for credits, fainted directly at the blood donation vehicle;

there are also those who are ill but still try to squeeze in without telling the doctor.

Do you think this is education or exploitation?

The saying back then, "It's not that we can't afford restaurants, but street vendors offer better value for money," now sounds like a joke.

Take a cup of lemonade as an example. In the past, Snow King sold it for 6 yuan, while the street vendor sold it for 4 yuan; now, the brand is still increasing prices, and the street vendor has doubled it. Fried rice noodles are even more exaggerated, with Shaxian steadily at 8 yuan, while the stall downstairs dares to sell it for 15. Clearly, there's no decoration, no air conditioning, no service, and not even a decent tablecloth, yet it's more expensive than a restaurant, resembling a quiet "price assassin."

A couple of days ago, after Amy finished her live stream, she went downstairs to buy a portion of fried rice, which was priced at 16 for the standard version, and 20 with an egg, and she still had to watch her tone. Desserts, marinated snacks, fruit mixes? She didn't even dare to look. In the past, 50 yuan was enough for two people to eat until they couldn't walk; now, with 50 yuan, they can only pick and sniff, too afraid to spend money.

Ultimately, it was once that there was no money to eat at restaurants; now, there is no money to eat at street vendors.

Here comes the question—if even five-star hotels are setting up stalls, why are real small stalls getting more and more expensive?

The reason is quite heartbreaking.

First, the wave of unemployment has pushed many people with previously decent incomes to the stalls.

They cannot accept low profits, so they package low-cost stalls as "premium snacks" or "internet celebrity specials," and naturally, the prices rise, as the accounts need to look decent.

Second, those setting up stalls are no longer satisfied with just filling their stomachs.

Some want to rely on night markets to pay off mortgages, some dream of buying cars and houses, some are on unpaid leave, and some are borrowing to start businesses; thus, while costs remain unchanged, prices change first.

Stalls have turned into outlets, while customers have become ATMs.

There are even more surreal occurrences—

Live streaming hype, hiring people to queue, deliberately creating explosive sales, intentionally not marking prices…

They will exploit anyone they can; if they can make a profit, they will.

But reality is always calmer than the story:

Stalls are not money printing machines.

Consumers are not fools.

Originally, the term "street stall economy" relied on two words: cheap and delicious.

If the core value for money is gone, the crowd will naturally disperse.

While shouting about "the atmosphere of life," they are actually distancing themselves from the stalls—

This is the answer.

Today I saw a piece of data, and suddenly felt a bit cold inside.

The number of licensed online ride-hailing drivers nationwide has reached 7480000.

Meanwhile, the order growth rate during the same period is only 38%.

What does this mean?

It means a lifeboat already full of people is still being stuffed with more.

Many people think online ride-hailing is the "lifeline for the unemployed,"

but the reality is more like— a collective downward competition.

In 2021, it was common for newcomers to earn twenty thousand a month.

What about now?

If one can earn five thousand, that's already considered fortunate.

Frontline drivers say they now have to drive over 12 hours a day,

just to barely make ends meet.

Even more exaggerated is that the proportion of vehicles that receive less than 5 orders in a year has already exceeded 36%.

This is not industry contraction,

this is despair spreading.

Why are so many people still squeezing in?

Because there are no choices.

Manufacturing is sluggish, the construction industry is at a standstill, and there is a wave of restaurant closures,

many middle-aged people, burdened with mortgages, start driving for ride-hailing the day after losing their jobs.

Low entry barriers, daily payments, no exposure to wind and sun—

sounds beautiful.

But it is precisely these "advantages,"

that have become the harshest traps:

Low entry barriers = endless competition

Freedom = no security

Daily payments = instability

Social security coverage is less than 10%,

and less than 30% are truly working full-time.

What's darker is the platform logic:

Algorithms control order distribution,

commissions are getting higher and higher,

customer unit prices are getting lower and lower,

fuel costs, insurance, maintenance, all rely on drivers to bear.

Monthly revenue over ten thousand?

What you take home may only be 60%.

This industry is like a sponge that absorbs water,

in a short time, it has indeed taken in a large number of unemployed people.

But now, the sponge is already full.

Continuing to squeeze in,

will only make it harder for everyone.

Online ride-hailing is not the future,

just the last buffer pool.

If there are still other paths—

don't treat this as the endpoint.

Awakening is the best investment.

In the past two years, there has been a strange phenomenon:

The people around me who show off their wealth have suddenly become quiet.

Those who used to buy cars, flaunt their keys, showcase hotels abroad, and post screenshots of profits when the cryptocurrency market soared—

have now all retreated, become low-key, and silent.

Don't think this is maturity.

It is very likely that—class mobility is slowing down.

Although flaunting wealth used to be unpleasant,

at least it allowed ordinary people to see a possibility:

Life can be lived that way.

That was a direction, it told you—

effort has a purpose, and wealth can change destiny.

Whether it’s envy or jealousy,

it's essentially a kind of motivation:

"Maybe I can do it too."

But now?

It’s not that there are no rich people,

it’s that they have started to separate the two types of lives into two parallel worlds.

No flaunting, no talking, no showcasing,

even posting on social media is just about coffee art and running routes.

The cryptocurrency circle is even more evident:

In the past, during the bull market,

the screen was full of "multiplied several times," "going to Mars," "financial freedom."

Now, even if someone makes millions, they keep quiet.

Why?

Because the market is cold,

because regulations are tightening,

because the wind direction is sensitive,

because classes are beginning to solidify.

The collective silence of the rich is the most dangerous signal.

When ordinary people cannot see a higher way of life,

even fantasizing becomes difficult,

that drive to rise will slowly fade away.

Class does not begin to solidify from the gap between rich and poor,

but from "no longer flaunting wealth."

When everyone becomes low-key to the point of being invisible—

you should not breathe a sigh of relief,

you should be alert:

It’s not that the world has become gentler,

but that the ladder you can climb up has been quietly pulled away.