At three in the morning, I sat on the edge of the rooftop, my legs hanging outside.

The wind was strong, blowing so hard I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My phone was clenched in my hand, the screen still lit up with a margin call notification. 320,000 yuan, 20x leverage, Bitcoin’s price plummeting in that very minute — all gone.

That was the down payment my family used to buy me a house.

I stared down at the building below, the 23rd floor — should be quick. I even calculated it, gravity’s acceleration, about three seconds. After three seconds, all debts, regrets, and shame would disappear.

Just as I was about to let go, someone suddenly spoke behind me.

“Hey, buddy, do you have a lighter?”

I turned around. An older man in security uniform was squatting about three meters away, holding a cigarette. He didn’t come closer, just squatting there, his hand trembling a little.

I froze: “…No.”

“Oh.” He put away his cigarette. “Then what are you sitting here for? Stargazing?”

I didn’t answer.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “I also owed money once. In the late 90s, I lost twenty thousand in business. Back then, twenty thousand could buy a house in Beijing. I thought about dying too.”

I didn’t respond, but he continued, “I didn’t go through with it. Now I make three thousand a month, paid off that debt after twenty years, finally finished paying it off two years ago.”

He stood up, pocketed his cigarette.

“Kid, if you lose your money, you can earn it back. But if you’re gone, your thirty thousand just becomes a number — the bank doesn’t burn paper for you.”

My grip on the railing loosened a little.

He turned to leave, without looking back: “Alright, stop blowing in the wind. Come down. I’ll treat you to some porridge I just cooked in the cafeteria.”

I sat for a long time. Then I came down.

The porridge was plain white rice porridge, with a bit of preserved vegetables stirred in. I took a sip, so hot that tears welled up in my eyes.

Living, maybe, isn’t that hard after all.