encryption betting dog portrait: the bait of luck, the prisoner of K-line

Doing contracts to the point of losing everything, yet stubbornly saying they will stop as long as they can recoup investment.

Written by: ChandlerZ, Foresight News

"You think you're trading, but you're just pulling the lever of a slot machine."

The cryptocurrency market, especially futures trading, operates 24/7 without breaks, with leverage up to a hundred times, liquidation without warning, and no need to wear suits, place bets, or sign contracts. Even emotions can be expressed through emojis, making it one of the most covert yet efficient addiction machines in the crypto world.

Cultural anthropologist Natasha Dow Schüll wrote the book "Addiction by Design" based on her long-term field research of Las Vegas slot machine players, presenting a panorama of the gambling industry, individual gamblers, and the fundamental concepts of modern society, while also revealing a harsh reality.

The most dangerous thing is not losing money, but the "machine maze" itself — that mental state where you know you are sinking, yet still cannot stop.

On this seemingly technology-driven and free-playing land, we see more and more gamblers falling into the abyss. Their identities, experiences, and intellects vary, but their fates are astonishingly similar: in front of the giant slot machine of contract trading, they are repeatedly fed and repeatedly swallowed by it.

Their story is the story of how we are designed to be addicted.

The Overthrow of the Deputy Factory Director - From a Well-off Home to Being Deep in Debt

Recently, the well-known Bilibili content creator "Feng Ge Wandering the World" (Feng Ge) released a self-narrated video under the username "Zhe Li Chong Sheng", which quickly sparked heated discussions.

According to the account of "Zheli Chongsheng", he was the deputy director of a large state-owned enterprise's coal washing plant in Handan, Hebei, a deputy-level official, with a net monthly salary of nine thousand. His family had a house and a car, and their life was comfortable and stable. After getting married in 2018, he and his wife had a daughter, and the family atmosphere was harmonious.

He said that his days at that time were "better than some, but not as good as others," making him a winner in life in the eyes of others.

But now, everything has changed. His life has been shattered by contract trading.

Before Rebirth Brother got involved in the cryptocurrency world, he briefly participated in the trading of postal currency cards and did not incur any losses; in fact, he made a small profit of tens of thousands. This experience did not make him aware of the risks of speculation; instead, it planted a sense of luck in him. He became obsessed with the idea that making money could be done without having to work.

He officially entered the circle in 2020. At first, it was spot trading, dabbling with a few hundred dollars to test the waters. But soon, the initial few "successes" completely shattered his perception of money, with returns of 40%, 50% in a short period, and even "earning 40,000 to 50,000 in a day." The enormous positive feedback destroyed his confidence in traditional work.

After the principal was completely lost for the first time, Brother Rebirth did not withdraw but instead advanced, embarking on a more aggressive path: borrowing money to open contracts. Attempts at 10x, 50x, and even 100x leverage followed one after another; borrowing money, taking out online loans, and using credit cards, each time was for "one more shot," not even for the sake of becoming rich, but to "recoup investment."

At first, the reborn brother tried to convince himself to set stop losses, but every time it was actually triggered, he would always cancel it.

"Afraid of missing the rebound."

He described his state in the video as "like a dull knife cutting meat." Today he invested 20,000 and lost, tomorrow he will invest another 20,000; at first it was mainstream coins, then it was altcoins and worthless coins, the investments became more niche, and the gambling became more desperate.

Later on, he couldn't even borrow from online loans. He had to turn to friends and family, concocting various reasons to borrow money. Each time he "went all in to gamble again," it resulted in yet another liquidation. Four explosions, four times filling the hole:

• The first loss was 220,000, and his parents and friends helped him pay it off;
• The second loss of 300,000, and again relied on relatives to help out;
• The third loss of 650,000, he sold the house his sister prepared for her wedding to get 500,000, barely filling the hole;
• The fourth complete collapse, with total debt exceeding a million, unable to repay.

In the end, he resigned from his state-owned enterprise position, his wife submitted the divorce agreement, and his father sent a resolute text message saying, "There is no place for you in this family." His five-year-old daughter only knows that "Daddy went to work in another city."

To avoid collection calls, he rented a single room in the suburbs for 600 yuan a month, driving a ride-hailing car for 13–14 hours a day, with a daily income of 300 yuan. After deducting car rental and meal expenses, he was left with less than 100 yuan. The smart watch kept vibrating with collection calls and messages, including threats to mass send messages to his contacts.

In front of the camera, the Rebirth Brother admits that he has long been "numb to digital matters", as the profits and losses in online loans and contracts seem like an empty button. The biggest regret is not losing money, but rather "having destroyed a good home with my own hands."

The real challenge lies in the fact that relying on driving and frugality, it is almost hopeless to repay the million debts with compound interest, and once the market rises again, the "impulse to recoup investment" may reignite at any time.

The tragedy of the reborn brother is a perfect sample used to illustrate the "machine maze" revealed in the book "The Bait of Luck", a space of addiction meticulously designed by technology to immerse, lose control, and ultimately escape backward. Traditional gambling has its pauses, but the cryptocurrency market operates 24/7, and coupled with the high leverage instant feedback, it compresses the cycle of risk and reward to the extreme. This perfectly replicates the core addictive mechanism of slot machines: "quick operation, immediate feedback."

The concept of flow proposed by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi is often used to describe a positive immersive experience. However, Schur sharply points out that machine gambling provides a form of "backward escape" pseudo-flow, which does not bring any self-actualization and merely signifies losing oneself in repetitive behavior.

The Reborn Brother is undoubtedly a typical example of "retreating backward." He is not creating value, but rather trying to combat the helplessness of reality with a sense of virtual control in a consumptive system. From initially seeking to "get rich," to later recklessly trying to "recoup investment," his goals have long been distorted. Selling his sister's wedding house and betraying everyone's trust, these actions indicate that he has sacrificed everything in reality to that virtual "maze."

Liangxi —— Emotion Liquidation Machine for Traffic

If the deputy factory director of the state-owned enterprise is a victim of the contract casino, then Liang Xi is the reveler in the casino. Unlike the slow collapse of the deputy factory director, Liang Xi's "dog gambler life" resembles a grand theater revolving around numerical gains and losses and social performances. He does not quietly sink but instead uses traffic and emotions to place himself at the center of public attention time and again.

Liangxi first gained fame during the 519 crash in 2021. On that day, Bitcoin recorded a 33% intraday drop, and the entire market collapsed like the end of the world. At just 19 years old, Liangxi made nearly 40 million RMB with a 1000 yuan short position, earning the title of "crypto trading genius."

This is a genuine "Hero's Birth" climax: low cost, high return, independent judgment, and against the market.

But all of this is exactly the most dangerous beginning, the bait of luck has appeared.

A successful large bet is enough to create the illusion of continuous betting, the obsession that I can do it again will make people constantly try to replicate that one stroke of luck. Liang Xi has never truly walked out of that day’s "big win"; he spent four years trying to recreate it while completely losing himself.

According to the book, machine gambling simplifies risk into a repetitive on/off, yes/no, win/lose, start/end, have/not have... Each time you take a risk, you can immediately see the results through simple operations. Quick actions and immediate feedback are demands that only high-speed machines can meet.

In subsequent trades, Liang Xi continuously operated with high leverage, often missing the mark, with profits and losses ebbing and flowing like the tide, ultimately accumulating debts exceeding 200 million yuan. He once disclosed in public that he "had no source of income," relying on borrowing to maintain trading, while also claiming to have encountered emotional betrayal, a rift with his parents, and a mental breakdown, attempting self-harm several times.

But at the same time, he maintains a very high level of activity on social media. He shares real trading screenshots to show the ups and downs of profits and losses; each time he turns things around, he "throws red envelopes" on social platforms to create points of interest; he constantly engages in public feuds and challenges with other KOLs in the crypto space to generate buzz; he reveals personal life disputes, emotional breakdowns, mental health issues, etc., to construct a "real but extreme" persona.

His social media is no longer an information publishing platform, but rather a "second exchange" for emotional gambling. Liquidations, comebacks, lamentations, throwing money, revenge—every wave of emotion fluctuates in sync with market trends, and each crash or rebound is part of the storyline. Liangxi is not just a participant; he is more like a self-directed playwright, using continuous and intense emotional fluctuations to solidify his position on the attention leaderboard in the crypto world.

This coincides with the description of the "machine maze" in "The Bait of Luck." Compulsive players tightly bind their emotions to betting; once they sink into the maze, time, space, and self-awareness will disappear, leaving only one thing: to continue betting.

The reason Liangxi can maintain traffic for a long time is precisely because he has made himself an unceasing emotional betting machine. Market fluctuations are his plot structure, and the numbers of profit and loss are his emotional drivers.

In the machine maze, individuals gradually become numb to wins and losses, with the goal shifting from "winning and leaving" to "sustaining existence." Liang Xi no longer pursues a one-time profit exit, but instead leverages the extreme volatility of crypto contracts to continuously provide topics and emotional anchors for her Liang family army.

Ironically, amidst repeated failures and disasters, he still has followers, with many even willing to transfer money to the accounts he disclosed, voluntarily becoming his creditors. This is a perfect reflection of the social addiction structure in the crypto scene, where individuals are not only addicted to the system but also bound by group identity, creating a tolerance space for "failure is also worth praising."

The reason Liangxi is special is not because he is crazy, but because he accurately interprets the "algorithmic value of a madman."

James Wynn —— The "Number One Gambler" on the Blockchain

If we set aside conspiracy theories and unverified speculation, James Wynn is more like the ultimate example of a tech-savvy gambler in the crypto space. His rise to fame is due to a staggering figure; in just 70 days, he turned his contract account profit from 0 to 87 million dollars.

Everything happens on Hyperliquid, with full-chain transparency. Every contract opening and closing, his profit records and position fluctuations are watched by the community in real time. He also frequently tweets, stating "I never played contracts before," and that he just "improvised transformed" from a Meme coin trader, accidentally achieving success.

This epic roller coaster ride quickly attracted thousands of followers. Within just a few weeks, James's social media followers surpassed 380,000. His account status once became a barometer for the market and even influenced market sentiment.

At the end of May 2025, after experiencing consecutive profits, James Wynn's position faced a sharp drawdown.

In 70 days, 87 million dollars in profit was almost completely consumed in just 5 days.

He also admitted on social media: "I just want to recoup my lost profits, while not wanting to look like an idiot who made 100 million and lost it all. I became greedy, and I didn’t take the numbers on the screen seriously."

From this point on, James's tweeting style became aggressive and dramatic. He changed his social media avatar to "McDonald's Wojak," self-mockingly claiming he had "recoup investment" and mocking himself for having to go work.

But he did not stop operating. At the beginning of June, while announcing a suspension of trading, he shared a position chart of a new long position hours later, claiming it was to "fight against corrupt market makers." He also specifically named Wintermute, accusing it of "sniping individual positions."

The most controversial operation occurred on the brink of liquidation. James Wynn published an on-chain address to publicly raise funds in USDC, claiming that these funds would be used to maintain positions and reduce liquidation risks. He promised "if the trade is successful, it will be returned at a 1:1 ratio." Ultimately, he raised approximately 39,000 USDC through that address and indeed used it to enhance margin and maintain position safety.

This move has been ridiculed by many as "high-end begging." As a result of this operation, his Bitcoin position indeed turned from near liquidation to being profitable, with a temporary recovery of several hundred thousand dollars. However, the good fortune did not last long. With the market's severe fluctuations, James Wynn's account ultimately faced significant losses again. On-chain data shows that his capital loss is close to 22 million dollars.

The controversy surrounding James Wynn has not ended with his losses. Some community users refer to him as a scripted traffic expert, believing that while significantly fluctuating his public accounts, he may be secretly holding hedge addresses for reverse trading. Others speculate that he has a marketing interest relationship with Hyperliquid officials.

In mid-June, on-chain detective @dethective published a long article analyzing James's on-chain referral commission data, transaction timestamps, and token overlaps, speculating that he might be conducting hedging trades through a hidden address. The blogger believes that James's public accounts are often on the "losing" side, while another high-frequency trading address makes trades in the opposite direction and has never been liquidated, showing stable profits. Currently, the hidden address has made over 4 million dollars in profit.

However, as of now, this statement has not been responded to by the person themselves or verified by on-chain signatures, and remains speculation from the community, with no conclusion.

But in any case, a trading clue with a clear loss of over 100 million dollars is enough to indicate that James Wynn's on-chain volatility is, in fact, a digital representation of "The Lure of Luck" in the cryptocurrency world.

Summary

In the high-leverage contract market, what is termed as investment often rapidly degenerates into behavioral addiction. The principal is no longer capital for appreciation, but chips to keep the game running. The random fluctuations of the market, the high-speed UI/UX of exchanges, and the emotional amplification of social media together construct a closed system.

There are no dealers, no chips, only a series of operations that continuously refresh, encourage reinvestment, and provide an instant thrill of liquidation. These platforms capture traders' attention with an almost perfect human-computer feedback loop logic. The operational feedback is immediate, the profit and loss numbers are stimulating, and the next order is always waiting for the moment to be placed.

The core of gambling addiction does not lie in the win or loss of money, but rather in a state of immersion that has been precisely designed. It exists in a gray area between numbness and flow, where individuals temporarily forget their identity, money, and the passage of time, synchronizing only with the rhythm of the machine in front of them, treating each action as an end in itself rather than a means to some outcome.

It precisely exploits human desires for pleasure and certainty, trapping traders in a cycle of increasing losses and bets, where the more they bet, the more they want to. This explains why many traders engage in irrational revenge trading after losses; their goal is no longer to rationally make money, but to immediately eliminate the pain caused by losses and return to the illusion of "I still have control over everything."

More insidiously, "failure" is often packaged as the illusion of "almost winning." This is akin to the delusion experienced by cryptocurrency traders when their unrealized gains are swallowed by reversals. If I just hold on for ten more seconds, add more margin, or bet in another direction, maybe I can "recoup investment." Schull refers to this phenomenon as the "near-miss effect," one of the most commonly used psychological weapons in casinos. It does not destroy your confidence but rather leads you to mistakenly believe that success is within reach.

"What players pursue is not winning money, but maintaining the state of betting itself." When we turn our attention to the cryptocurrency market, this statement seems to be a footnote written exclusively for those high-frequency traders and crypto gamblers who refresh their screens at four in the morning.