There are eight days until the Mid-Autumn Festival. Our moon is not mooncakes; it's the time difference.
September 17, 2026. The lunar calendar is still in the late eighth month, with the date on September 25 (Friday). The mainland has a holiday from the 25th to the 27th, with no make-up work. National Day is still to come.
This week, the Federal Reserve just raised interest rates, the bill didn't pass, and Bitcoin is fluctuating around seventy-five thousand. The market is open 24 hours. The festival is not.
The following paragraphs are not interview transcripts; they are people you encounter every year in this circle. Names are omitted, but the time difference remains.
First, let’s hear what they say
New York, four in the morning.
The salesperson reduces the computer brightness to the minimum to avoid waking up his roommate. In his headphones is the sounds of family dinner: his sister-in-law urging the kids to drink less soda, his father asking if he’s coming home this year. He responds, "Yes," while keeping one eye on futures. He has to explain the interest rate hike to clients in the morning in the East Coast. He isn't lying, nor has he booked tickets. After hanging up, the mooncake still sits in the drawer, from last year's Mid-Autumn Festival until this year, the date on the iron box has already passed. He didn't open it. If he did, he'd have to admit: this box wasn't for him to eat; it was for him to look at.
Singapore, nine at night.
The trader unboxes a box of lotus seed paste in the company pantry. Colleagues are from India, Malaysia, and Australia; someone politely takes a bite and says, "sweet." No one understands why they are eating this today. She shares a photo of the moon in the family group chat, captioning it "also counts as reunion." Her mother replies instantly: "You look thin." She turns her phone over. This city is the closest to home, yet flights become harder to book each year—not for lack of money, but from fear of asking for those three days off. There are still positions open on the market. She knows this is an excuse. Excuses are very useful.
London, four in the afternoon.
On the risk manager's calendar, the Mid-Autumn Festival is not a holiday. In his first year at the job, he has to reserve his vacation for next year's Spring Festival. Outside the office window, there is no full moon, only shadows. He transferred some money home, noting "mooncake." His father replied: "Save it for yourself." He looks at those five words and changes the note to "Dad, buy some seafood." People in finance will settle accounts; sometimes when settling up, he realizes that the only thing that can be sent back is money. Money is love, and also a receipt of distance.
Hong Kong, after dinner.
People in private equity are actually "at home." The subway takes half an hour to reach his parents' building. He still feels like the festival is a failure. After the meeting wrapping up the interest rate hike, he went downstairs to buy roasted goose and egg yolk pastry, and his first words after entering were, "I can only sit for a while." His mother pulled out a chair, remaining silent. The TV is broadcasting a gala. He glances at his position and then shuts off the screen. Geographical homecoming cannot fill the absence of time. The hardest part of the Mid-Autumn Festival is sometimes not being unable to return, but returning yet being unable to sit still.
Dubai, at night.
The brokerage girl points her camera at the moon outside the window; it’s already light back home. She says: "You eat, I will watch." Grandma holds the mooncake up to the camera, saying it tastes better when warmed. She bursts out laughing, suddenly not wanting to smile anymore. This time zone makes her miss the warmth of each reunion dinner just right, while catching all the market fluctuations. She wrote a phrase on the whiteboard for herself: a holiday isn’t about being empty-handed; it’s about writing the positions before leaving in a way that allows you to sleep soundly. She hasn't written a second phrase this year.
Some people have flown back.
The luggage carousel waited for forty minutes. Upon entering, he was handed a still-warm piece. He thought he would cry, but he was just very sleepy. His aunt asked if the crypto market has collapsed again; he didn’t know how to translate "25 basis points increase, unanimously passed" into his dialect. In the end, he simply replied: "I'm okay, I'm here." This sentence weighs more than any market recap. Under the dinner table, his phone vibrated; he didn't take it out. This is the closest he has come to "the best position" this year.
This week’s market and the people of this week
The market has given two heavy hits. Over in Washington, the market structure was stuck; on this side with the Federal Reserve, 12:0 raised interest rates to 3.75%–4.00%, the first increase in over three years. The chair said inflation is too high and has lasted too long; the dot plot leans toward another increase within the year. In the square, the topics of interest rate hikes and screenshots of airdrops persist. For those still in the mainland, this is a workweek between two short holidays; for Chinese people leaving work overseas, these are a few days that are hardest to pretend to be an ordinary Thursday.
People in this line of work usually handle volatility well but struggle with holidays. Missing home doesn’t always mean crying. It can mean wanting to hear the dialect, wanting someone to serve you food, wanting not to explain why you don’t drink. It can also be quite hard: clearly writing down the delivery, topping up your parents' data, rescuing your vacation days from the "waiting for the market to turn." After getting used to turning everything into opportunity costs, the Mid-Autumn Festival can easily morph into a "to go or not to go" transaction. Being busy is real, but it is also a form of avoidance.
Talk about the feeling of home, how to pass this round of moon
There is no unified answer. Some can fly back, some cannot. The least likely to lead to regrets are perhaps the following points.
If you can go home, decide early and don’t compete with the market. Eight days later is the date. Tickets, visas, schedule changes are more useful now than refreshing the K-line on the night of the 24th. What you bring with you isn't necessarily expensive mooncakes; it's that missing person from home this year.
If you can't return, don't try to imitate a complete family feast. Buying seven boxes by oneself often feels even emptier. Two or three fellow townsfolk, a simple dinner, a recognizable snack are already sufficient. The moon doesn’t need to be photographed like a postcard; just standing somewhere you can see the sky for a while is enough.
Align the video with the domestic dinner, not your convenience. The moment of reunion is on their side. When connected, talk less about federal funds and ask more about who is at the table. The elderly don’t understand the dot plot, but they understand whether you have eaten.
Send gifts in advance, and the words can be short. "Not coming back this year, I sent mooncakes" isn’t cold. Pretending not to care is what’s cold. Money is a form of love, but don’t let it be the only kind.
Do not use leverage to fill the gaps during holidays. The worst Mid-Autumn position is: alone, with contracts, late at night, wanting to prove how strong you are. The market can be left aside; positions can be small; phones can be put down. Celebrating isn’t about giving up professionalism; it's about allowing yourself one night to not be a trader.
Define reunion as connection, not geography. Same moon, different days. Reporting peace to those at home and leaving a spot for those around you who also can't return is already reunion.
The feeling of home, in the end, isn't about that round table needing to be filled. It’s about someone waiting for you to speak, and you are willing to set aside the market first. The best position is just one sentence: settle the people down, set aside the market, and finish watching the moon. Whether the mooncakes are sweet or whether the live stream is hot, they are just side dishes.
The platform is also celebrating: convenient action is not a reason to celebrate
Binance launched activities for this festival. It can't solve the flight problems but offers an excuse to "bring friends who also can’t go back to the same table." Rules, quotas, and regions are subject to the App, not everyone gets a share.
What hits closer to most people is inviting friends, rewards for selections (roughly from September 16, 19:00 to October 8, 07:59, UTC+8). New friends completing specified deposits and spot/exchange trades can exchange their points for token vouchers, around the $8 / $25 / $50 tiers, available in USDC, ETH, SOL or some stock token vouchers. The benefits are very specific: getting those still using unverified links over to official accounts; the vouchers are bonuses.
The Mid-Autumn gift for Asia-Pacific VIPs is a suitcase, with a slogan that approaches the limitless moon, journeying far. Only those who reach VIP 3 or achieve trading milestones will have access. The threshold is high; don’t leverage just for the suitcase. Those who are already VIP 3 can check within "My Gifts" to see if they can claim it, roughly until October 2.
If new users do not yet have an account: complete registration and verification before the festival:
https://jump.do/zh-Hans/xlink-proxy?id=3
(Official partnership link) Invitation code aicoin668, just for being able to go through official channels during the festival; do not get into trouble on unverified links. Airdrop screenshots are not what one should pursue during the Mid-Autumn Festival.
After completion, search "Mid-Autumn Festival activities" to participate; this activity allows for a chance to draw a lottery, winning up to 188 USDT, with a lottery +字 collection, and the chance to win an iPhone Duo.
Wrapping up
This week, the market has yielded an interest rate hike, Congress did not pass the bill, and the calendar has given the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Financial practitioners abroad are most prone to err by painting macro, positions, and homesickness on the same chart. They are not the same transaction.
Let’s listen to them. Some have let mooncakes expire, some only sit for a bit, some say in front of the camera, "You eat, I watch," and some were handed a still-warm piece upon entering.
The feeling of home is when someone passes that piece to you while you are there.
In eight days, the moon will be full. The market will always be there. Reunion only happens this once a year.
Not investment advice. Activities are subject to the Binance App page.
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