Three years ago, my wife always said that my crypto trading was "gambling." At my father-in-law's dinner table, relatives looked at me askance and asked, "I heard you're into Bitcoin? Isn't that stuff a scam?" I silently picked at my food, and my explanations sounded pale. At that time, BTC was still struggling around $30,000, ETH had just broken $2,000, and the market was filled with bearish sentiment. Relatives would advise me to "be honest and get a steady job" while showing off their kids passing civil service exams, buying houses, and cars. I clenched my shrinking holdings and didn't even dare to share a screenshot of my real account in the family group.

When my real trading profits first exceeded seven figures, I showed my wife a screenshot of my account: "Look, this is what you've been calling 'gambling' for three years." She stared at the screen in silence for a while, then suddenly smiled: "I'll cook tonight, and you teach me how to buy coins." Turns out, account balance is the best persuasion.

Last week, when I visited my father-in-law's house, the relatives' attitudes had completely reversed:
My younger cousin rubbed his hands and asked, "Bro, is ETH still a good buy now? I heard it could go up to 10,000?"
Even my most sarcastic uncle-in-law came over and asked, "Um... what's the safest way to store Bitcoin? Which wallet should I use?"
I didn't answer, silently picking a dish. They don't understand everything I've been through along the way; they only see the surface of my success. My father-in-law, sipping his wine, muttered, "If I knew he could make it doing this, I should have invested back then..."

Once mocked as a "non-serious hobby," now it's the most reliable side hustle for the whole family. But I know: in a bull market, everyone thinks they're a genius; only those who have been wiped out understand true reverence.