Legend of the Country Dog Coin
At three in the morning, Lin Hao stared at his phone screen, his eyes already bloodshot.
Three days ago, he’d been scrolling through a post on the Binance Plaza. Someone mentioned a coin called PHA—supposedly a new project in the AI track, with a market cap of only a few million USD. At the time, PHA was priced at just 0.012. There wasn’t even a proper trading pair, so he had to buy it on-chain via a DEX.
"Anyway, it’s only five hundred U. If I lose, I’ll treat it as tuition."
That’s what Lin Hao told himself. On PancakeSwap, he swapped five hundred U for PHA. After buying, he immediately regretted it. The thing couldn’t even draw a meaningful candlestick chart—its liquidity was so thin it felt like paper.
On the first day, PHA slid from 0.012 down to 0.008. Lin Hao was down by a third. He cursed himself ten thousand times in his head. The second day, it fell again to 0.006. He didn’t even dare look at the chart anymore. He tossed the phone aside and thought of those five hundred U as burned.
On the third night, bored out of his mind, he opened the Telegram group and found the place in an uproar.
"PHA is pumping!"
"It’s up three times!"
"Ten-baggers!"
His hands trembled as he opened the DEX to check—and there it was: PHA’s price, clearly displayed as 0.049. His five hundred U had turned into fifteen hundred U.
"No way. This can’t be real."
He refreshed the page again and again, thinking it must be his eyes playing tricks. But the numbers were right there—bright and glaring—burning his eyes.
Over the next two days, PHA kept blasting upward like a rocket. 0.06, 0.08, 0.1. Lin Hao’s heart rode the roller coaster with it—sometimes he felt he should sell to lock in gains, and other times he felt it could still double.
When it reached 0.1, he finally couldn’t hold back and sold half. He pocketed 7,500 U, and his principal was already back. The rest, he decided to keep—after all, it was all profit.
Today, PHA’s price surged to a high of 0.1007. Even though it had pulled back from the peak and was around 0.088 now, Lin Hao’s holdings had grown from five hundred U to nearly fourteen thousand.
Leaning back in his chair, he let out a long breath.
That month’s salary—just like that, it came.
He knew this money came too easily, too luckily. In the group, people had already started shouting "PHA to the moon." Some posted screenshots of positions worth hundreds of thousands. Others advised him to add more.
But Lin Hao made a decision: withdraw the original principal of 7,500 U, and leave the remaining profit where it was. Even if it went to zero, he wouldn’t feel a thing.
He remembered what the old veteran “weed” always said: money earned by luck will eventually be lost back by strength.
This time, he didn’t want to be the one who becomes the "eventual".
His phone buzzed again. Someone in the group asked, "Can PHA still be bought?"
Lin Hao smiled and didn’t reply.
At three in the morning, Lin Hao stared at his phone screen, his eyes already bloodshot.
Three days ago, he’d been scrolling through a post on the Binance Plaza. Someone mentioned a coin called PHA—supposedly a new project in the AI track, with a market cap of only a few million USD. At the time, PHA was priced at just 0.012. There wasn’t even a proper trading pair, so he had to buy it on-chain via a DEX.
"Anyway, it’s only five hundred U. If I lose, I’ll treat it as tuition."
That’s what Lin Hao told himself. On PancakeSwap, he swapped five hundred U for PHA. After buying, he immediately regretted it. The thing couldn’t even draw a meaningful candlestick chart—its liquidity was so thin it felt like paper.
On the first day, PHA slid from 0.012 down to 0.008. Lin Hao was down by a third. He cursed himself ten thousand times in his head. The second day, it fell again to 0.006. He didn’t even dare look at the chart anymore. He tossed the phone aside and thought of those five hundred U as burned.
On the third night, bored out of his mind, he opened the Telegram group and found the place in an uproar.
"PHA is pumping!"
"It’s up three times!"
"Ten-baggers!"
His hands trembled as he opened the DEX to check—and there it was: PHA’s price, clearly displayed as 0.049. His five hundred U had turned into fifteen hundred U.
"No way. This can’t be real."
He refreshed the page again and again, thinking it must be his eyes playing tricks. But the numbers were right there—bright and glaring—burning his eyes.
Over the next two days, PHA kept blasting upward like a rocket. 0.06, 0.08, 0.1. Lin Hao’s heart rode the roller coaster with it—sometimes he felt he should sell to lock in gains, and other times he felt it could still double.
When it reached 0.1, he finally couldn’t hold back and sold half. He pocketed 7,500 U, and his principal was already back. The rest, he decided to keep—after all, it was all profit.
Today, PHA’s price surged to a high of 0.1007. Even though it had pulled back from the peak and was around 0.088 now, Lin Hao’s holdings had grown from five hundred U to nearly fourteen thousand.
Leaning back in his chair, he let out a long breath.
That month’s salary—just like that, it came.
He knew this money came too easily, too luckily. In the group, people had already started shouting "PHA to the moon." Some posted screenshots of positions worth hundreds of thousands. Others advised him to add more.
But Lin Hao made a decision: withdraw the original principal of 7,500 U, and leave the remaining profit where it was. Even if it went to zero, he wouldn’t feel a thing.
He remembered what the old veteran “weed” always said: money earned by luck will eventually be lost back by strength.
This time, he didn’t want to be the one who becomes the "eventual".
His phone buzzed again. Someone in the group asked, "Can PHA still be bought?"
Lin Hao smiled and didn’t reply.