$PI $PI #PI #PI #PI Sharing a story, please widely share this post among Pi friends and family. This story will definitely provide great inspiration for Pi pioneers—what everyone should do to achieve their goals! The story is a bit long, so please be patient and read through it!!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

He could only afford five-cent beer, yet he invested all his savings into a junk stock. In just six months, his assets skyrocketed to 47 million dollars because this stock would become the epic battleground between retail investors, small traders, and the arrogant Wall Street funds—known as the stock short squeeze during the pandemic. His name is Gil, a financial analyst at Wantong Insurance and a YouTube streamer. One day, he told his followers he bought stocks. A friend advised him to sell the junk stock quickly, as he still had a wife and children to support. Gil not only bought stocks but also used all his equipment to invest in GameStop. His friend thought he was joking, but when Gil showed his phone as proof, they realized Gil had gone completely crazy. At that time, GameStop was the world's largest retailer of video games and entertainment software, but it had been hit hard by online shopping and digital gaming, dropping over 90% in the past three years. Wall Street saw an opportunity to make a quick profit, including famous firms like Castle Securities and the 72 Point Hedge Fund, with Melvin Capital being the biggest. Melvin’s CEO was only 36 but already the most profitable hedge fund on Wall Street. He had been making money by shorting GameStop for six consecutive years, driving the stock from $28 down to $2. The store owners changed six times in two years, and they were ready to continue shorting GameStop, celebrating their “victory” early with champagne. So, Gil’s act of buying GameStop stock was almost like throwing money into the water. But unexpectedly, he woke up to find GameStop’s stock price had surged 130% in an instant. This unprecedented surge scared Melvin’s CEO so badly he urinated himself. He couldn’t understand why the stock was soaring—until he learned that a small internet celebrity, Gil, had said he loved the stock. Gil’s wife was about to be laid off due to the pandemic, adding pressure on him. Meanwhile, his childhood friend’s words made him doubt his choices, but his wife fully supported his decision to buy GameStop. He went live on stream, showing his followers, “If you’re unsure, let me show you what investors are saying.” Gil returned to his study, put on his signature red bandana, and started his live stream. Though his viewership was small and full of mocking comments, Gil responded with humor rather than avoidance. Then he shared his serious thoughts on investing in GameStop. Wall Street’s big players had shorted GameStop, causing its stock to hit a low of $3.85. Gil believed they had made a mistake—underestimating GameStop’s value. The stock was shorted by 140%, meaning the more retail investors bought, the more short sellers lost. Despite most people buying digital games online, a quarter of loyal customers still bought physical discs at GameStop. Wall Street was deliberately messing around—if retail investors united to push the stock price up and refused to sell, they could crush the big capitalists’ short positions and make a huge profit. But Wall Street always looked down on retail investors as a mob of fools, only interested in short-term gains, and never united. They called ordinary people’s money “the easiest money to steal,” and Melvin, seeing retail investors entering, eagerly added 600,000 more shares to short, waiting for the price to fall. These retail investors were the “chives” he wanted to harvest. But he never expected that his continued shorting would be seen as declaring war on GameStop. The retail investors decided to rise up—not to make money, but to take down Wall Street’s giants. Online, people cheered each other on, buying the stock madly and calling everyone to join the fight. They had nothing to lose, and if each person invested a few hundred or thousand dollars, they could topple the elite who looked down on them. This was no longer just about stock investing; it had become a revolutionary movement. Thus, a butterfly effect in the stock market began. A nurse with a $50,000 debt saw Gil’s call and immediately invested half a month’s salary. They hated the capitalists who made their lives miserable. Mark, working at GameStop, lost his job because of the short squeeze and couldn’t get paid for months. He invested his last $100 in GameStop. A college girl heavily in debt, whose father had worked diligently at a big retail store before being bought out by Wall Street funds and bankrupted, also invested all her savings. She hated these capitalists. A spark can start a prairie fire. With everyone’s effort, GameStop’s stock soared to $10. In 2020, the US experienced its bleakest Christmas, but Gil live-streamed his results at home: GameStop had increased fivefold since last summer, from $4 in July to $21.70 now. Few investment theories actually work, but viewers kept commenting, “Let’s send GameStop to the moon!” Gil earned the respect of all netizens. The reason they could buy stocks for just a few dozen dollars was thanks to an app called Robinhood, a mobile platform dedicated to stock trading. Registering on it allowed anyone to buy and sell stocks without trading fees—no barriers for most users. Just search for the stock code, swipe to buy, and hit send—done. Robinhood’s user base soared to 20 million. They could profit for free because they facilitated trading by passing orders to market makers, earning small commissions on each trade. Although the money was tiny, the huge volume made Robinhood very profitable. Several market makers partnered with Robinhood, mostly with Castle Securities, but this business model drew the attention of Wall Street. On January 19, 2021, GameStop’s stock hit $43 per share. When Wall Street bet it would fail and the price would plummet, retail investors started buying aggressively, delivering a heavy blow to the big players. The stock surged 70%, and the next day, it rose to $90. Gil posted online: “Wall Street is about to get squeezed out. Retail investors are bouncing back from the bottom to reach new heights.” Short squeeze is a market mechanism—its opposite. When a shorted stock keeps rising, short sellers need to buy back shares at high prices to cut losses, which drives the price even higher. Other short sellers see this and buy in to stop losses, fueling the rise further—this is called a short squeeze. By then, Gil had made $11 million. If he sold now, he’d have made a huge profit. But retail investors hesitated, watching Gil to see if he would sell. GameStop’s stock was in an extreme situation: Wall Street held 140% short interest—meaning even if they bought all available shares, they couldn’t cover their borrowed stocks. They’d need to buy multiple times over, causing the price to rise infinitely. Worse, the biggest holders were the “fools” in Wall Street’s eyes—hedge funds that didn’t realize that hardworking ordinary people, with no insider info, were fighting back. They were born at the top of the pyramid, eating prime steaks, partying on yachts, and bragging about their wealth. When asked how they got so rich, they said, “Because fools make money so easily.” This post resonated with retail investors, turning the GameStop event into a class war. What if the little guys could beat the whales? Gil urged everyone to hold firm and not sell. It had nothing to do with money anymore. But Melvin didn’t realize how terrifying the situation was. That night, he told his wife the stock would crash next week because retail investors would take profits. He believed no short squeeze had ever succeeded before. But the next morning, the stock surged 103%, and 220% retail investors bought in and refused to sell. The scene exploded across news outlets and live streams. GameStop, on the brink of collapse, suddenly became the most active trading company in the world, with its stock rising nearly 4% every minute. By night, it had surged 581%. Experts warned that the short squeeze could bankrupt several firms, especially the foolish hedge funds betting against it. Gil’s wife asked, “How much did we make today?” Gil said, “5 million dollars.” She asked, “How much yesterday?” Gil replied, “4 million.” She couldn’t believe it. “Are we really rich now?” Meanwhile, Melvin’s wife asked, “How much did we lose today?” Melvin answered, “One billion dollars.” She asked, “And yesterday?” “Also one billion.” News reports soon announced Melvin Capital was on the brink of bankruptcy. During an interview, Melvin struggled to compose himself but then abruptly shut down his live stream and turned off his computer—he was finished. In just a few days, he lost 6.8 billion. He had to keep investing because stopping now would mean losing everything—his last meal. He sought help from two other funds. Wealthy people are generous—throwing 3 billion dollars into Melvin Capital’s rescue. All capitalists believed that making money off the poor was risk-free. After rescue, GameStop’s stock fluctuated wildly. The 8 million shareholders’ pooled money was dwarfed by a single statement from Wall Street. Gil had already earned $23 million. His family urged him to sell, but his wife fully supported him, knowing how much effort he put in. Netizens waited for updates—would Gil sell or not? He refused to sell. GameStop’s stock kept soaring, reaching nearly $350 per share. Even the White House started paying attention. The Treasury Secretary and experts intervened. As the frenzy grew, capitalists couldn’t take it anymore. Wall Street finally fought back, calling in major media outlets to question the stock’s rapid rise and accusing “pushers” behind the scenes. This made Gil a stock god—though the effect was poor. They cut off the retail investors’ internet access, shut down Gil’s forum, and stopped discussions. Then they fired Gil from Wantong Insurance. With children crying at home, many retail investors couldn’t see Gil’s posts and sold their stocks. That night, Robinhood’s app also had issues. The National Securities Clearing Corporation demanded a 3 billion dollar margin to settle all trades. Robinhood’s CEO said they only raised 2 billion. Without enough margin, they couldn’t continue trading, and their IPO plans were canceled. When the market opened the next day, millions of retail investors found they could only sell, not buy, GameStop shares. Panic spread instantly. The CEO of Castle Securities contacted Robinhood’s CEO—if he set GameStop to “sell only,” the margin could be reduced to 700 million. Robinhood agreed, citing insufficient margin, and suspended buying. After disconnecting the internet, GameStop’s stock was dumped in a panic. Media outlets amplified the panic, warning investors that holding could lead to total loss. They shut down forums, controlled banks, manipulated media, and created anxiety—an all-out assault on retail investors’ mental defenses. Robinhood betrayed its users, helping capitalists short the stock, causing widespread outrage. Some behind-the-scenes manipulation was suspected, but Robinhood couldn’t explain. The next day, Gil received a subpoena. Many suspected he was a scammer helping short sellers. As a stock god, he suddenly fell from grace. His reckless brother came to comfort him, though he often called Gil a “nerd.” But Gil had successfully scared the wealthy out of their pants. He told himself to be brave and face it head-on. Robinhood, Castle Securities, Melvin Capital, and Gil were all summoned to testify before Congress. Wealthy people can hire teams of lawyers to craft their statements, even choosing backgrounds to appear more noble. But Gil only had family and friends who didn’t understand much. The next day, key members of the US Congress’s Financial Committee attended the hearing. Castle Securities’ CEO brought a team of lawyers, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Melvin Capital, overly nervous after its shorting failure, forgot to unmute his microphone, drawing mockery online. Robinhood’s CEO avoided questions and rambled uselessly. Only Gil, unprepared but calm, confidently answered questions, explaining that he came from an ordinary background, didn’t know any big bosses, and had been unemployed for a while after college. He spent a lot of time self-educating on investing, discovering violations like delayed trades and manipulative shorting tactics. He believed the stock market should be fair—smart and lucky people could make big money. But now, big corporations with tech and info advantages left small investors hopeless. His sincere love for GameStop touched many viewers. Gil said he wouldn’t sell his stocks, and viewers echoed his stance. The next day, GameStop’s stock was suppressed from $500 to $40. But three days later, Gil reopened his computer and bought more shares. The stock surged again, doubling his holdings to 100,000 shares. Within a week, GameStop’s stock tripled again. Retail investors who invested $100 made $18,000; others earned $270,000; the nurse’s debt shrank to just $10,000—all refusing to sell. Gil later gifted his brother a red sports car. By 2022, Melvin’s fund shut down. Robinhood went public in July 2021 but performed poorly, with trading volume only 10% of its peak two years earlier. The founders no longer were billionaires. Six months later, court documents revealed that Robinhood and Castle executives had discussed the stock’s rise before the suspension. The court dismissed the lawsuit. A month later, the SEC completed its investigation and found no wrongdoing. The incident mostly faded away. Gil’s last online post was on April 16, 2021. His assets were $34 million. About 85% of hedge funds began actively investigating retail investors’ holdings, fearing another squeeze. Hedge funds drastically reduced shorting, and Wall Street could no longer ignore the “fool’s money” effect. That’s the full story.
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