Imagine this: you've made a fortune in cryptocurrency, reaching 2 million, achieving your first small life goal, and are now planning to diversify the risk and find some reliable investment opportunities.
It is at this moment that your girlfriend's friend pays you a visit.
You met in a crypto group, knowing each other for two years. At first, you were just friends, chatting about the market, projects, sharing memes, joking about the absurdity of the market—gradually, the relationship changed. She would greet you morning and night, send selfies, confide in you, saying how lonely she felt alone in Beijing, mentioning that only you made her feel like there was still some warmth in the world. Unknowingly, you developed feelings for her.
She is in the oil business, owning several gas stations, engaged in freighter trade, involved in Maotai liquor distribution, and has a billion-dollar deposit in an overseas trust. Her social media is filled with either airplane tickets or yacht photos, constantly checking in from different countries. That lifestyle is very appealing to you. She is confident, independent, and even a bit dominant—you start to feel like she is not just a girlfriend but more like a person with even more "abilities" than you.
You can't help but sigh. Fate always seems to favor you. In this cold cryptocurrency world, you can also meet a lover with common interests, willing to stand by you through ups and downs.
One day, she tells you about a business cooperation with Sinopec, a short-term fund turnover with very high returns—an interest rate of 10% per month. She says they are just a little short of funds to secure the deal, doesn't want to involve outsiders, and only wants you to participate.
You hesitated a bit, but she sounded very certain. You have been dating for some time now, you know her character, understand that she's not the type to constantly ask for money. She didn't ask directly; she just said it would be good if you were willing to participate in this deal, without pressure.
You have 2 million in hand, taking out 100,000 to give it a try doesn't seem like a big deal.
Over the next two months, she indeed transferred the interest as promised, 10,000 each month without any delay. This made you completely let go of your guard. You feel like you not only gained love but also found a reliable business partner. You even start to fantasize about the two of you doing projects together, investing together, making money together, like those "power couple" scenarios you envy.
Then, a mishap occurred.
She suddenly tells you that the company account has been frozen, with several million debts on the card, unable to continue the business, employees are pressing, and suppliers are causing trouble, on the verge of a crisis. She says she has gathered most of the amount but is short of 300,000, asking if you can help out. She emphasizes repeatedly: it's not a loan, it's for an emergency. As soon as the funds are unfrozen in a couple of days, she'll immediately repay you.
She is feeling low, even shedding tears, saying she shouldn't have unloaded this pressure on you, mentioning that if it weren't a desperate situation, she would never ask.
You were stunned. What flashed through your mind was what she had done for you, the gentle tone of your late-night conversations, and her reassurance when you received interest: "Don't worry, I am a reliable person."
As soon as you loosened your grip, the money was transferred...
This is the real story of Big Peach Brother.
However, Big Peach Brother's deposit was not 2 million, but 200 million. The investment given to his lover was not 100,000, but 10 million and 30 million.
She, not only was not a "girlfriend" or a "benefactor," she was Zhang Bai, a "hunter," behind whom was a sophisticated, well-organized, two-year-long "emotional + investment fraud" group. They set up a trap more intricate than imagined—from the glamorous and luxurious image, to the fake romantic relationship, from the fabricated source of goods and police notices, to fake lawyers, fake police, fake companies, fake seizures, and then to escalating layers of "crisis resolution."
On social media, Big Peach Brother recorded a video of over 20 minutes, recounting every detail of his scam experience. He could have retired before he turned thirty, living a life driving supercars and traveling the world. But now, all he has left is a mobile phone and these suffocating memories.
After Big Peach Brother transferred the 30 million to help unfreeze an account, Zhang Bai, to "thank" him, sent him a Lamborghini Urus, a top-of-the-line model worth over four million.
He thought it was a token of love, but later found out that the car was also purchased with his own money, registered under her friend's company. This was another brilliance of the scam:
Give you a little reward and sweetness—making you believe everything is real.
In April 2023, Big Peach Brother wanted to buy a Ferrari 812 GTS. Zhang Bai said she had connections, could get an internal discount, and the price was reasonable. She suggested using the name of a "familiar company" to register and license the car, making the transaction smoother and less likely to be targeted by the tax authority. Big Peach Brother, without hesitation, transferred another 7 million for the car.
A few days later, she approached him again, saying that because the company was newly registered and had insufficient transactions, the tax authority suspected "tax evasion and arbitrage." Now the car payment account was frozen, and they needed to deposit another sum to follow the proper process. Big Peach Brother once again chose to trust. He transferred another 7 million. Over the next two months, Zhang Bai came to him again with excuses such as "tax investigations," "company implicating," and "large fines," gradually taking away over 30 million from him. By this point, half of Big Peach Brother's one billion had almost been emptied, yet he continued to trust.
In the following "episodes," things became more frequent, almost every month.
In October, the issue was with the initial batch of masks, which turned into the "Pandemic-related Supplies Fraud Case." She cried for help, and DaTaoBro transferred over 10 million once again.
In November, a company employee was taken away by the police, and the transcript mentioned DaTao, stating he was a "key money laundering figure" who needed someone to take the blame. She suggested spending 10 million to settle this, including giving 3 million to Liu Yuqiao as "compensation" for going to jail. After some hesitation, DaTaoBro transferred the money.
In December, there were sudden nationwide "financial audits." Freezing of assets in the east, tax interviews in the west—every few days brought a new "crisis," each time requiring tens of thousands or even millions to "smooth things over," with the transfers unable to keep up with the rapidly evolving situation.
…………
By July 2024, DaTaoBro was already at the end of his rope.
He sold all his supercars, and his accounts were nearly empty. He finally woke up, meticulously organizing all his chat records, transfer receipts, and travel arrangements from the past. He reported everything to the police.
The most ironic part was that he went to the police station with Zhang Bai. This means that when he reported the incident, he didn’t even know that the "girlfriend" sitting next to him was actually one of the masterminds behind this massive scam.
The world of cryptocurrency is full of myths, but it is also full of nightmares. You may see someone becoming incredibly wealthy overnight, but you may not see the many others who experienced complete financial ruin, falling victim to schemes that combined "love + investment" and emptied their life savings.
Over the years, the cryptocurrency world has become a "sweet spot."
The cryptocurrency world is too young, too profitable, too chaotic, and too lonely. It has attracted a group of individuals who are seeking rapid wealth, with intense emotional fluctuations and blurred social boundaries. These individuals happen to be the ideal targets in the eyes of scammers.
More than just DaTaoBro was scammed. And it's not just cryptocurrency players.
Recently, one of the top 100 content creators, DaXiangBro, publicly shared in his video the personal experience of being involved in a three-year-long, multi-million-dollar scam. Initially, he was lured into an "investment" in the catering business—the other party was a tycoon in the high-end restaurant industry, well-connected, wealthy, and ostentatious. They even let him taste-test the food, stay in luxury, meet friends, and discuss the future. A meal, a car, a mansion—one seemingly genuine "proof" after another stacked up, leading him to unsuspectingly transfer 2.4 million.
No contract, no agreement, only a simple promise of "You can trust me, I'll make you money."
Then came the continuous escalation — opening new stores, expanding to a corporation, taking on large projects, and eventually reaching the point where he was asked to gather 10 million RMB, and to bring in six friends to invest. Da Xiang Ge not only contributed all his savings but also provided personal guarantees, convincing his trusted brothers to join forces and "go all in".
In the end, as expected, the other party disappeared with the money.
The project failed, and Da Xiang Ge was left with over 12.49 million RMB in personal and joint debts. He even sold his Maybach, used up all his parents' and grandmother's savings, and still owes 900,000 RMB to relatives. He said, "I'm not afraid of losing everything; I'm afraid of letting down those who trusted me."
You may not be in the cryptocurrency world or have traded contracts, but if you possess these three characteristics: having made quick money, desiring a bigger breakthrough, and having once believed in someone who would "take you to the moon," then you are one of their targets.
They will show up when you're making the most money, discuss strategies with you, and praise your vision; they will chat with you about the market until late at night, claiming they too are lonely, believe in destiny, and have their stories. They seem to understand you very well. They may even understand you better than you do yourself.
They know how to weave stories; their background is more elaborate than a script. They know how to hold back, offering you small wins each time, then creating the next crisis. They don't need you to withdraw all your funds at once. They only need you to "trust one more time" at each checkpoint. They've set up a psychological game.
They are in no hurry; they can chat with you about the market for half a year, befriend you for a year, or even accompany you from a bull market to a bear market, making their move discreetly.
Both Da Tao Ge and Da Xiang Ge were undoubtedly unlucky.
But if, after reading this story, you still think, "I won't be deceived," then please go back to the beginning of the article, put yourself in their shoes, and read it again.
What's truly frightening is not the act of being deceived itself but the unwavering confidence you have that this will never happen to you. Because, at a time when you are unaware, they may already be lurking around you, appearing in your WeChat contacts, listed in your Telegram, or even among friends you've met.
They are waiting for you to utter the next sentence revealing your trust or greed. Then, with a toast, a collaboration, or a simple "Bro, I really admire you," the scam begins.
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