Legend of the “Earth Dog Coin”: The QI I bought for 0.0014
At 3:30 a.m., the blue light from his phone screen reflected in Old Chen’s bloodshot eyes.
He stared at that unremarkable token on the Binance order book—QI, trading at 0.001447. The group chat was already silent. Last night’s crash sent everyone running in fear. Bitcoin had fallen back from its highs, and the whole market was crying out in misery; altcoins were even running red with blood.
“Let it go—if this coin goes to zero, so be it.” The last message in the group had been posted four hours ago.
But Old Chen placed a buy.
20,000 U—full position.
If his wife found out, there would definitely be another fight. Last month, he’d just lost 30,000 from a contract liquidation. They’d promised not to touch small coins anymore. But Old Chen felt something was off. Sure, QI had dropped hard, but the on-chain data was still there. In the past few days, the number of addresses holding the coin had actually been rising—big players hadn’t run.
“Others fear, I’m greedy,” he told himself, quoting Buffett.
After buying, he went to sleep, tossing his phone under his pillow.
The next afternoon, he was woken up by a call.
It was his crypto friend, Xiao Liu.
“Brother Chen! Have you seen QI?!”
Old Chen, half-asleep, opened the app and nearly dropped his phone.
0.0028. It doubled.
He thought he misread it, rubbed his eyes—no, it was definitely 0.0028. His heartbeat started racing, and sweat formed in his palms. The group chat exploded again: messages like “QI is taking off!” and “Who bought it?!” flooded the screen.
But he didn’t sell.
“Just two times. No rush,” he said to himself.
By evening, QI reached 0.0039. Old Chen’s hand began to tremble. He paced back and forth in his room—glancing at the candlestick chart, then at the ceiling. The 20,000 U turned into nearly 60,000. That was his salary for three months.
Should he sell or not?
He remembered the story of when he bought PEPE last year. Back then, it went up fivefold and he didn’t sell. The very next day, it got slashed in half overnight. After that, he regretted it for a whole six months.
This time was different. He set a take-profit order: sell half at 0.0045, and keep the rest just to play with.
On the third morning, QI surged to 0.004740—the day’s intraday high. His half was perfectly set to sell at 0.0045, executed right then.
40,505 U.
He sat on the balcony, lit a cigarette, and found his hand still shaking slightly. Staring at the extra 20,000 yuan in profit on his account, he suddenly felt that it was a bit unreal.
Later, QI dipped back to around 0.0043. His remaining position still floated with more than a thousand U, but he didn’t care anymore.
Old Chen transferred the 40,000 U out of the contract account and sent his wife a WeChat message: “Add a dish tonight.”
His wife replied with a question mark.
Old Chen smiled and didn’t explain. Some stories—if you told them, people wouldn’t believe them. In the crypto world, between “getting rich overnight” and “going to zero overnight,” there’s often only one decision at 3:30 a.m.
And he—just happened to press the buy button at that moment.
#加密货币 #BTC #Crypto story
At 3:30 a.m., the blue light from his phone screen reflected in Old Chen’s bloodshot eyes.
He stared at that unremarkable token on the Binance order book—QI, trading at 0.001447. The group chat was already silent. Last night’s crash sent everyone running in fear. Bitcoin had fallen back from its highs, and the whole market was crying out in misery; altcoins were even running red with blood.
“Let it go—if this coin goes to zero, so be it.” The last message in the group had been posted four hours ago.
But Old Chen placed a buy.
20,000 U—full position.
If his wife found out, there would definitely be another fight. Last month, he’d just lost 30,000 from a contract liquidation. They’d promised not to touch small coins anymore. But Old Chen felt something was off. Sure, QI had dropped hard, but the on-chain data was still there. In the past few days, the number of addresses holding the coin had actually been rising—big players hadn’t run.
“Others fear, I’m greedy,” he told himself, quoting Buffett.
After buying, he went to sleep, tossing his phone under his pillow.
The next afternoon, he was woken up by a call.
It was his crypto friend, Xiao Liu.
“Brother Chen! Have you seen QI?!”
Old Chen, half-asleep, opened the app and nearly dropped his phone.
0.0028. It doubled.
He thought he misread it, rubbed his eyes—no, it was definitely 0.0028. His heartbeat started racing, and sweat formed in his palms. The group chat exploded again: messages like “QI is taking off!” and “Who bought it?!” flooded the screen.
But he didn’t sell.
“Just two times. No rush,” he said to himself.
By evening, QI reached 0.0039. Old Chen’s hand began to tremble. He paced back and forth in his room—glancing at the candlestick chart, then at the ceiling. The 20,000 U turned into nearly 60,000. That was his salary for three months.
Should he sell or not?
He remembered the story of when he bought PEPE last year. Back then, it went up fivefold and he didn’t sell. The very next day, it got slashed in half overnight. After that, he regretted it for a whole six months.
This time was different. He set a take-profit order: sell half at 0.0045, and keep the rest just to play with.
On the third morning, QI surged to 0.004740—the day’s intraday high. His half was perfectly set to sell at 0.0045, executed right then.
40,505 U.
He sat on the balcony, lit a cigarette, and found his hand still shaking slightly. Staring at the extra 20,000 yuan in profit on his account, he suddenly felt that it was a bit unreal.
Later, QI dipped back to around 0.0043. His remaining position still floated with more than a thousand U, but he didn’t care anymore.
Old Chen transferred the 40,000 U out of the contract account and sent his wife a WeChat message: “Add a dish tonight.”
His wife replied with a question mark.
Old Chen smiled and didn’t explain. Some stories—if you told them, people wouldn’t believe them. In the crypto world, between “getting rich overnight” and “going to zero overnight,” there’s often only one decision at 3:30 a.m.
And he—just happened to press the buy button at that moment.
#加密货币 #BTC #Crypto story