ETCS

Mongrel Coin Legend: I Bought MUBARAK at 3:00 A.M.

Lao Chen hasn’t touched crypto in three years.

During the 2022 LUNA crash, he lost 470,000 yuan and cleanly closed his contract account. His wife said if he traded crypto again, she’d divorce him. Obediently, Lao Chen deleted all the exchange apps on his phone, went to work, and paid off his debts the old-fashioned way.

One deep night in September 2026, Lao Chen couldn’t sleep. While scrolling on his phone, he saw someone in a group shouting a name: MUBARAK. He didn’t want to pay attention, but a 95-er who usually never spoke in the group posted a screenshot: principal 20,000, floating profit 60,000.

Lao Chen’s hands began to shake.

He redownloaded Binance and registered, which took him twenty minutes; facial recognition failed three times. At 3:17 A.M., he finally logged in. MUBARAK’s price was 0.033 dollars. Its total market cap was only a few million dollars—just a thin K-line chart on the verge of breaking.

"Anyway, I’ll just lose a couple thousand and try." he told himself.

He bought MUBARAK worth 2,000 dollars—about a little over 6,000 coins. After buying, he went to sleep. He didn’t really expect it to go up.

The next morning, he opened the app and saw MUBARAK up 12 percent. Two thousand had become two thousand two. He chuckled, thinking it was pretty good—but he didn’t plan to sell.

Over the next three days, MUBARAK went absolutely wild. It surged from 0.033 all the way to 0.041. Lao Chen’s 2,000 dollars turned into 4,800. He couldn’t sit still anymore. At his workstation, he secretly watched the charts; his heartbeat was faster than it was during meetings.

On the fourth day, people in the group started shouting, "Target 0.1." Lao Chen thought these guys were crazy, but he didn’t sell.

On the fifth day, MUBARAK broke through 0.047. Lao Chen’s 2,000 dollars were now 8,600. He started doing the math: if it rose to 0.1, he could make 20,000. 20,000 dollars—exactly enough to cover his credit card debt.

That night, MUBARAK suddenly got smashed from 0.047 down to 0.038. Lao Chen’s face went pale at once. He stared at the screen, his finger hovering over the sell button, trembling so hard he couldn’t press it. The group was full of wailing. Someone said, "It’s over—the whales ran." Someone else said, "Cut your losses now!"

Lao Chen didn’t sell.

Not because he had iron discipline, but because he went to the bathroom. When he came back, the price had already bounced back to 0.044.

By the ninth day, MUBARAK hovered around 0.044. In his account, the 2,000 dollars had turned into 11,200. He hesitated for a long time, and in the end sold half, taking his principal out.

The remaining three thousand-odd coins, he kept.

His wife asked why he had been staring at his phone so much lately. He said he was learning English.

Lao Chen knew that his 11,200 couldn’t change his life. But every night, he would open the app and take a look at MUBARAK’s K-line chart. That thin line that had once been close to breaking now looked like a small patch of grass that had just sprouted.

Sometimes he wondered: what if he’d bought more back then? What if he hadn’t deleted the app? What if he hadn’t lost everything on LUNA? Would things be different for him now?

But there’s no "if" in the crypto world.

Only that impulsive moment at 3:17 A.M., and the slightly trembling hands of a middle-aged man in front of the screen.

#MUBARAK #币安广场 #Mongrel Coin Legend

Xiaoxia is a stay-at-home mom. Bored taking care of the kids at home, she started getting involved with contracts. She first made a little spending money, but then she kept playing bigger and ended up losing all her husband’s 500,000 yuan project payment. When her husband found out, he didn’t hit her or scold her. He just sat on the balcony, silently smoking through the night. The next day, he proposed a divorce.

Abin is a taxi driver, while his wife stays at home taking care of their child. In 2022, he secretly used the 300,000 yuan saved at home to play contracts, and by the end of the month he had lost it all. Only after his wife went to the bank to check the accounts did she find out. That same day, she left with the child. Now he lives alone, drives his car at night, and can’t sleep during the day.

Xiao Wu is a college student who used his living expenses to trade SOL contracts and lost 12,000. For adults, that isn’t much, but for him it was a semester’s worth of food money. He started eating instant noodles and stopped going to parties. His roommates thought he was depressed. Actually, he just didn’t dare to tell the truth.

Lao Zhou ran a restaurant for 20 years, but the pandemic wiped him out. He wanted to turn things around with a contract—invest the remaining 150,000 yuan so it could turn into 2,000 in three days. When the restaurant closed and the shop lease was refunded, he went back to his hometown and helped his younger brother raise chickens, and he never mentioned the contract again.

Xiao Zhao is a nurse. During the COVID-19 outbreak in 2020, she worked overtime and saved 100,000. She was brought into the contract market by a coworker—doubled in a week, and wiped out to zero in two weeks. She said: “I saved so many people in the ICU, but I can’t save my own savings.”

In May 2021, Daliu put his entire wedding dowry of 300,000 RMB into a BTC long position. That night, the market crashed by 20%, and he was liquidated immediately. The bride didn’t even get to enjoy the honeymoon—she went back to her parents’ home. Three months later, he divorced, and the 200,000 RMB wedding turned into the most expensive empty affair of his life.

That year Daizo Kobayashi came into contact with a contract and ended up losing all his tuition and living expenses, and even borrowed 20,000 from a classmate. He didn’t dare tell his parents. During the day he went to class, and at night he took bar jobs to pay off his debts. When he graduated, everyone else was celebrating while he was figuring out how much he could repay this month.

Lao Chen is 52 this year and has worked in the factory for 30 years. Before retiring, he invested the 400,000 yuan meant for his retirement into BTC futures, hoping to give his wife a better house. On the day he got liquidated, he stood on the rooftop for two hours, and in the end his coworkers pulled him back. His wife said, “If the money is gone, that’s fine—at least we still have people.”

Aqiang is a delivery rider. He rides for 12 hours a day, saving 150,000 yuan to buy a house. In 2023, he saw a teacher’s “order-and-earn” contract in a group chat and thought he could make 30,000 yuan a week. He increased his investment, and after two weeks, the entire 150,000 yuan was gone. After his fiancée found out, they called off the engagement—and the house was gone too.

Her name is Xiaomei. She is 25 years old and the youngest department manager in the company. During the 2022 bull market, she started trading contracts and added 20x leverage. In the big drop in May, not only did she lose all her savings, she also owed the platform 80,000. To pay off her debts, she took on three jobs at once, and only managed to catch her breath a year later.

Old Wang spent ten years in the building materials business and saved up a million-dollar fortune. A friend invited him to play with an ETH contract, saying it was guaranteed profit with no losses. A month later, one million turned into thirty thousand. On the day his wife proposed a divorce, he sat in the car smoking a whole night. At dawn, he made up his mind: he would never touch it again.

Xiao Zhang is a post-1990s programmer earning 20,000 yuan a month. In 2021, after he got into contracts, within three months he lost all his savings. What hurts most isn’t losing money—it’s that when his mother needed hospitalization and cost 50,000 yuan, he searched through every bank card and found only 800 yuan left. From then on, he never touches contracts again.

In the winter of 2018, Old Li invested 200,000 yuan meant for his son’s tuition into BTC futures. On the day of the 312 crash, he didn’t set a stop-loss, and in a single night it went to zero. After his wife found out, she took the children back to her parents’ home and never came back. In the empty room, all that remained was him staring at the account that had gone to zero.

That night of MUBARAK

At 2:17 a.m., Aje’s phone screen lit up.

He was already asleep. During the day, he had moved cargo for ten hours at a logistics company, and his whole body ached as if run over by a truck. But that flash of light, like a hook, pulled him out of his light sleep.

It was a message from the Binance group. Someone was shouting “MUBARAK,” saying it was about to take off.

Aje rolled over, intending to ignore it. Last month he had lost 2,000 yuan on FORM. He went long with 20x leverage, and a single needle move dropped the price from 0.42 to 0.25—his margin was wiped out instantly. That night, he sat in his rental apartment the entire time, staring blankly at the candlestick chart, not even ordering food.

But this time was different. MUBARAK was only 0.033, with a small market cap and a light order book. Someone in the group said that there had been big news from the Middle East, and this coin would double.

He hesitated for about thirty seconds. Then he opened Binance and used all 800 yuan’s worth of USDT left in his account to buy at market price.

0.0335—filled.

After buying, he couldn’t sleep anymore. He refreshed the price every two minutes. 0.034, 0.035, 0.037. It was rising slowly, but the direction was right. He rolled over and told himself not to look anymore—go to sleep.

The next day at noon, he woke up and first reached for his phone.

0.041.

His heart started racing. He refreshed again: 0.043.

By 3 p.m., MUBARAK was already at 0.046. In the group, people began calling out the target of 0.1. Aje’s hands were trembling—not from fear, but because he calculated it: if it reached 0.1, his 800 would turn into nearly 20,000.

20,000 yuan. Three months of his salary.

0.047, 0.048. The price started to move sideways. The voices in the group split into two camps—one side saying “don’t move,” the other shouting “run now.” Aje stared at the screen, sweat beading on his forehead. He remembered FORM too—how it had been climbing nicely, and then suddenly a big bearish candle buried him.

Can’t be greedy anymore.

0.04785, he hit sell. Liquidated everything.

Funds received: 1132 USDT.

He stared at that number for a long time. There was no excitement, no wild joy—just a very quiet, steady sense of security. 800 became 1,132—not much, but this time, he had won it himself.

That night, MUBARAK surged again to 0.049, almost hitting 0.05. When Aje saw it, he smiled slightly—no regrets.

He knew that in this market, the people who can leave with money are already winning over most others.

#MUBARAK #合约交易 # Binance Square

Xiaoxia is a stay-at-home mom. Bored taking care of the kids at home, she started getting involved with contracts. She first made a little spending money, but then she kept playing bigger and ended up losing all her husband’s 500,000 yuan project payment. When her husband found out, he didn’t hit her or scold her. He just sat on the balcony, silently smoking through the night. The next day, he proposed a divorce.

Abin is a taxi driver, while his wife stays at home taking care of their child. In 2022, he secretly used the 300,000 yuan savings at home to trade contracts, and he lost everything within a month. His wife only discovered it when she went to the bank to check the account records. That same day, she left with the child. Now he lives alone, drives the taxi at night, and can’t sleep during the day.

Xiao Wu is a college student who traded SOL contracts with his living expenses and lost 12,000. It’s not much for adults, but for him it was one semester’s worth of food money. He started eating instant noodles and skipping parties; his roommates thought he was depressed. Actually, he just wasn’t afraid to tell the truth.

Old Zhou ran a restaurant for 20 years, and during the pandemic he lost his shirt. He wanted to turn things around with a contract, investing the remaining 150,000 so it could become 2,000 in three days. The restaurant closed down, the shop was returned, and he went back to his hometown to raise chickens with his younger brother—never mentioning the contract again.

Xiao Zhao is a nurse. During the COVID-19 outbreak in 2020, she worked overtime and saved 100,000. She was brought into the contract market by a coworker—doubled in a week, and wiped out to zero in two weeks. She said: “I saved so many people in the ICU, but I can’t save my own savings.”