Having stepped into the crypto world for ten full years, I feel like I've experienced several cycles of life. The most疯狂 moments always shine brightest at the autumn-winter boundary of 2017.

At that time, I投入50,000 yuan into OMG—a project claiming to revolutionize the payment system. The forums were buzzing with excitement, jokes about "one coin, one young model" flying everywhere, everyone convinced they had caught the bottom.

Magic happened very quickly. In less than two months, my account balance skyrocketed to nearly 800,000. Walking on the street, I felt surrounded by luck; at the dinner table discussing blockchain, the eyes of friends trading A-shares changed. That sense of superiority now seems a bit ridiculous in hindsight.

Then, the dream shattered.

The bear market of 2018 arrived without warning, like a silent avalanche. Once, a single trading day could earn enough for a car; the next, all that could evaporate in an instant. Numbers on the screen flashed by so fast I couldn't hold onto them, just like trying to grasp a handful of sand. In the end, I couldn't even protect the initial 50,000, only seeing red and green K-lines slicing through all my future imaginings like knives.

After ten years, some facts finally surfaced.

Most of the visions depicted in whitepapers remain forever on paper—that's the most heartbreaking truth in the crypto circle. Judging whether a altcoin can truly rise isn't about technical depth. What matters? How loud the shouting is, when the exchange lists it, how sensational the story is. Often, a good story's fighting power far exceeds any code.

Here, there's no concept of value investing—only price speculation. Your profits never come from the project itself but always from the next person willing to buy at a higher price. When market cheers fill every corner, you're already the one who takes the last baton, holding the hottest hand.

I once set a strict rule for myself: take out the principal after fivefold gains, and if profits retreat 50%, walk away. Sounds rational, right? But when OMG surged to its peak, human greed took over reason. I rewrote the fantasy of "stop at one million" into a new discipline. The result? Watching the peak turn into a cliff. Now I understand: discipline isn't decoration; it's the brake in a life-or-death moment.

These lessons are carved into my bones every time I fall, but once the market heats up again, these lessons vanish into smoke. During the 2021 animal coin frenzy, I jumped in again. But this time, I learned to be smarter—make some profit and run immediately. Not because I became wiser, but because I understood a universal truth: as long as you're still in the game, the market has a hundred ways to make you lose everything—including your principal and gains.

My final advice is very practical: if you insist on playing this game, treat it as an expensive entertainment. Only use money you can afford to lose, never leverage, and don't even dream of using it to leapfrog social classes. The market will teach you everything; the price is the tuition fee.