In the morning, my family told me they saw this MV and were moved to tears by the lyrics. Let's be a bit sentimental and reflect on my past. The lyrics actually contain a lot, and I want to thank @dajingou1 for the details once again.

I first worked at the sports channel of Tianjin TV, where I created the world's first television program about online gaming. Because of this, I dropped out of college in my sophomore year, having attended Tianjin Normal University and Tianjin Medical University. At that time, I thought a degree was useless, and I wanted to seize opportunities, so I gave up my studies to create my own program, which was a stroke of luck.

The program was doing well, but due to well-known reasons, the country implemented a blanket ban, and TV stations were not allowed to produce any game-related content. This decision has not been lifted to this day, especially for satellite channels. I suddenly went from having a bit of money to being heavily in debt, fleeing from Tianjin to Shanghai, where I worked with legendary figures Han Feng and Wu Sha to create 17173 and 1T1T, and we did that for five years.

Then I started my own business again, but it failed once more. What I created was actually quite good, being one of the earliest video-sharing websites, but due to poor management and some borderline content, it was shut down. I then switched careers; at that time, Taobao was just emerging, so I opened a store selling women's clothing and shoes. The categories weren't as strict back then, and since I still had some connections in the gaming industry, I also sold many game "whitelists," building up early credit.

Because I was doing well early on, I was reported for allegedly manipulating points. There was a rule that products under one yuan couldn't count for points, or something like that; I forgot. I then went to Hangzhou, braving heavy rain to visit Taobao, where I found a dedicated customer service representative and spent a few hours pleading to have my account unblocked.

Although my store had good credit, it wasn't profitable. My monthly income was around 2,000 yuan, which was barely enough to live on in Shanghai, where rent was 1,200 yuan. After struggling for a while, I gave up and went to work for someone else. Looking back, if I had continued, even though it would have been exhausting, I might have caught the wave of live streaming four years later. Why do I say this? Because while I was doing Taobao, I was also involved in something else.

When video-sharing websites started to rise, there was 56.com, which many of you might not know now; it was one of the earliest platforms with UGC content, where users uploaded their own content. I saw great potential in this blue ocean, and in 2006, I decided to manage Taobao while also creating videos. After all, I came from a TV background, so I had some video skills. I created a program called "Beautiful Chef," which taught people how to cook home-style dishes, and it quickly gained a lot of attention and interaction.

I made about eight episodes, and those contents are still on a computer in Shanghai. If I get the chance, I might dig them out to show everyone. The reason I stopped was that I became depressed from the criticism. At that time, the conditions in Shanghai were limited, and the kitchen environment wasn't very good. I was often scolded, and online bullying back then wasn't much different from now; there were always people trying to insult us. I ended up crying a lot and quit, even though I had become a key figure on 56.com, with editors encouraging me and giving me traffic. But mainly, UGC wasn't profitable at that time.

So, I was juggling Taobao and 56.com, being pressured for goods daily while also being scolded, and neither was making money. I was young and lacked a broader perspective, so I gave up. Looking back, if I had persisted with either or both, I might have had a breakthrough opportunity four years later. But persistence is incredibly difficult, especially when you're not making money. After all, people need to eat and have a place to live. At that time, my living expenses were covered by my wife, who supported me for two years.

Giving up on entrepreneurship and going back to work was much simpler. Jobs were easier to find back then, especially since I had some foundation in the gaming industry, and I was young during the industry's growth phase. My serious working life began with Youqi, where I worked on "Wolong Yin." The product was profitable, but I didn't make much money, and there was a lot of internal strife in the company, which led me to resign in frustration.

My continued working life began with a children's gaming company called Youbei, which gave me a lot of freedom and room to grow. I managed both game design and business negotiations for licensing. I was one of the earliest to get involved in adapting domestic animation copyrights into games, frequently traveling to Guangzhou to collaborate with several IP companies like Aofei, Lingdong, Lanhua, and Huachuang to secure licenses and adapt games.

I also worked on acquisitions and mergers, the most notable being the acquisition of "Finding Nemo." At that time, I was one of the strongest children's gaming companies outside of Taomi. 4399 would call me every day wanting to operate on a revenue-sharing basis. This company was where I worked the longest, and it gradually expanded its business, receiving investments from Redpoint, GGV, and IDG, and then partnered with a major player, though I can't disclose who that is.

I worked at this company for ten years, and it was during this time that I became acquainted with cryptocurrency. Unfortunately, the company's development didn't keep pace with the times. I calculated that I went bankrupt three times; although I managed to survive each time, I hardly made any extra money apart from my salary, which only increased by 50% over seven years. I also started driving for Didi during this time. My family finances were tight, and the company's performance was poor, so I drove for about four months to supplement our income.

I worked during the day and drove at night and on weekends, with my favorite shifts being at the airport because they paid well. I was already sleeping only four hours a day. Unfortunately, I missed the best period for Didi's bonuses, and since I didn't have a Shanghai license, I could only take limited orders. I earned a few thousand yuan over those four months.

Then in 2017, a major player finally began to push our company, which had gone bankrupt again, to explore cryptocurrency. At that time, I thought, "What is this?" I completely didn't understand it. A colleague from the Philippines helped me register on my first exchange, Huobi, and set up my first ETH wallet on the blockchain. Although I hadn't done well before, I had some experience from investments, acquisitions, and mergers, and I happened to catch the tail end of the ICO boom. The major player provided some funds, and I started investing in projects.

Later, the major player wanted to research stablecoins, so I created Hong Kong's first stablecoin, which was also the first stablecoin in the gold sector, a few months ahead of Paxos. I won't mention the name of this stablecoin, but many in the industry know it. I created three well-known stablecoins in total, so I can shamelessly say that not many in the Chinese-speaking world understand stablecoin operations better than I do. Just consider it bragging.

The major player was very satisfied and gave me more responsibilities. I started frequently traveling to Hong Kong, during which our team led the acquisition of several exchanges. We sold all but two, including the Japanese branch of a now prominent exchange, which we sold.

Both exchanges had four-letter names; one was super famous, while the other, though less known, was a subsidiary of a major domestic company. I participated in the acquisition of the former and led the acquisition of the latter. After the acquisition, I served as the CEO of that exchange for a while, preparing to obtain licenses in Singapore and Malta. However, due to the major player's ideas, I eventually returned it to the company.

Thus, I became very familiar with the operations, technology, and maintenance of exchanges, even the backend. My tech team cloned two exchanges, both of which are still operational today. Of course, I have no connection to them anymore.

In 2019, I basically left the major player's internal team and started a business in incubation and technical outsourcing, continuing until July 2023 when I closed the company. During this time, I invested in and incubated many well-known projects, including one that recently criticized me heavily, but I won't go into that. My first significant earnings came from the Polkadot ecosystem, and I still hold a considerable amount of $DOT. I can say I returned to where I started. In 2021, I made the most profit and bought all $ETH, holding onto it until now, with a cost basis of over $3,600, which I haven't sold, and I've been mocked by friends for years.

I also started buying $BTC at $3,800 and haven't sold any, continuously buying Bitcoin.

During the bear market in 2022, the best company I was incubating failed to settle accounts. I didn't receive a single cent or token despite investing dozens of manpower. I can say without hesitation that every line of code in the early stages of that project came from me, and I was the one who publicly sought funding in China, yet I didn't receive even a free token, not even until now.

There's an even more dramatic story: I heavily invested in a project that raised $16 million, the largest funding in the Polkadot ecosystem, but it failed at the hands of a few foreigners. Overnight, I lost $12 million. Yes, it was UST and Luna. Before the incident, I called them to warn about the risk of de-pegging when it was at $0.96, with $22 million in custody and five multi-signatures. I only had one signature, my CTO had one, but he backed out, and my partner had one but trusted those Americans more.

They told me it was fine; they knew Do Kwon and believed he wouldn't mess up. They missed the best escape window, and the next day, only $6 million of the $22 million came out, which would have been enough for me to start another business. But the foreigners, trying to redeem themselves, bought $5 million worth of $LUNA, and we all know what happened next.

That wasn't the end. Although I had almost no money left, I still had some cash from my secondary market earnings, but they were all taken from me. They said they would pool all funds to revive the company but needed to downsize, vacating a room on the first floor of Haigang City and laying off nearly 100 people globally. I naively handed over my last $3 million. If I had kept that money, my company could have made a comeback.

Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs" in this world. After they took my last bit of money, they invested in a bizarre project. For a long time, I was forced to pay my team's salaries through advertising revenue on Twitter. My team members knew that my last entrepreneurial project was ETH staking. I had prepared a demo in January 2023, and at that time, ETH staking required a minimum of 32 ETH. Many friends didn't have that much ETH, and Lido's biggest drawback was its lack of transparency and no block rewards.

I don't know if anyone remembers, but in 2023, I wrote a lot about this topic. Since I was doing it myself, I created a liquidity pool that allowed users to stake ETH once they gathered 32 ETH, providing clear positions for all stakers through multi-signatures. Unfortunately, it was a year too early. I spent six months trying to raise funds but didn't secure a single cent. Of course, the market was terrible at that time, so I was writing, taking ads to support my team, and developing the project, hoping for another chance. After all, the projects I incubated were almost all guests of OKX and Binance.

After six months of hard work, I couldn't hold on any longer. Many of my team members had been with me for over five years, and I gradually had to let go of friends who had been with me in entrepreneurship for many years. In the end, I couldn't hold on any longer. My advertising revenue couldn't cover all the development costs. I also have a family and my own responsibilities. After weighing my options, I gave up my company. Of course, there were many dramatic moments in between. The two most successful and profitable projects I incubated didn't give me a single free token, didn't follow any contracts, let alone my shares. Now that the company is gone, the shares are worthless, and none of the promises made to me were fulfilled.

This situation is still unresolved, but the projects are gone, and it doesn't matter what I say. Even if I was forced to, I have to let go.

How did I start writing? I mentioned it in the early days on Space as well. In 2021, I was investing, and all my profits went into buying ETH. Then I encountered a significant drop, which left me feeling lost, so I began researching. For some reason, I get a headache looking at candlestick charts; I just couldn't learn or understand them. By chance, I came across GlassNode and was amazed. I started learning about data, and fortunately, I could understand the data. Gradually, the prices began to recover, and by 2021, futures were approved, the market improved, and our investments continued, primarily in the GameFi sector. However, as a small workshop institution, we couldn't access good projects.

So, I decided to share the GlassNode data that we discussed daily at the company online to increase our visibility and see if we could get more projects. Initially, I shared it in my WeChat Moments, then on my public account. By the end of 2021, I felt the domestic market was too risky, so I moved to Twitter. I had registered on Twitter when I started incubating, so I had been there for quite a while and had some interactions, making me relatively familiar with the platform.

That's how it all began. I didn't expect that by 2022, I would basically stop investing, but the writing life opened a new world for me. I discovered that I had a passion that came from within, and sharing made me so happy that it could even subsidize the company. Later, when the company closed, I relaxed and found that I enjoyed writing even more. Without the shackles, writing multiplied my happiness, and gradually, I arrived at where I am now.

When I wrote this tweet, Kitty @CatoKt4 asked me if it was a bit early. In fact, this timing is just right. I hope everyone gets to know the real me. Since 2021, I decided to live as transparently as possible on Twitter, revealing who I am, what I look like, and where my home is. The main reason is to remind myself that I cannot do evil; if I do, I could be exposed at any moment. I cannot go against my conscience, as there will always be someone who will come looking for me.

This is me, a living, breathing person—not a genius, not a trading expert. I've started businesses, made money, but I've also been scammed and lost it all. I've made several comebacks, and each time I was pushed down, I refused to give up and resisted as much as I could. I've had successes and failures, but I will not give up. Today, I am here, and I hope to still be here tomorrow.

This is not a concluding article; at most, it's just an overture. I will continue to be active, keep writing, keep sharing, and remain by your side. Whenever you need me, you can always find me here.

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