#Gate13thAnniversaryLive

In the 2013 AD era of the Gui Si year, Gate opened its doors to the whole world from the very beginning. At that time, the blockchain was still in its infancy, and the masses had not yet come to know its name.

I, from thousands of miles away, held one key and entered—like a carp first catching sight of the Dragon Gate. I have seen bear markets like a long night, with ten thousand households sealed under ice; I have also encountered bull tides like spring surges, with a thousand sails in a single night. Between gains and losses, I came to understand that trading is not gambling, but cultivating the mind. Ten years to hone one sword—today, the sword is not yet old. The memory of a single trade surpasses ten thousand gold.

So how is a gate established? With trust as its bricks, and skill as its beams. Long ago, Zhang Qian broke through the unknown and the Silk Road connected to the Western Regions, with camel bells sounding far away; now, with a private key lightly tapped, ten thousand chains reach across the four seas, and in the blink of an eye, everything becomes different. The waters of the Yellow River flow day and night without ceasing—Gate’s promise has always been steadfast. For thirteen years through wind and rain, it has never failed anyone’s entrusted hope, never lost even a fraction of trust. Heaven rewards diligence; humanity rewards sincerity.

Now, as we mark the thirteenth anniversary, all the guests board the vessel. It is called Gateway to iWeb3. AI is the wind, driving the sails to rise. Web3 is the sea, vast and boundless. I stand at the bow and look out, and I see:

The Way gives birth to One; One gives birth to Two; Two gives birth to Three; Three gives birth to ten thousand chains. In the thirteen years to come, BTC will be like the veins of Kunlun—deeply hidden, beyond shaking. ETH will be like heaven and earth breathing, nourishing all things silently. The Great Wall will no longer be made of bricks and stones, but a new wall of invention built by computing power. The Silk Road will no longer be camel caravans, but a rainbow bridge of cross-chain flight. We hold private keys as we hold a pen, jointly writing a new Classic of Mountains and Seas—recording every address, every consensus.

May this gate be always open and never shut. May this resolve grow ever fresher with time. May we, from Istanbul to Chang’an, from the banks of the Yellow River to the Bosporus, raise a cup together—then make an appointment again for the next cycle. Thirteen years are when one becomes fully grown; thirty is something to look forward to with standing firm.

Gate will never age, and neither will my heart.
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