Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The air in the corridor seemed to freeze for a second.

The cool, refreshing scent of jasmine didn't dissipate after the impact; instead, it seemed like a stubborn symbol, standing out starkly in the cabin filled with the smells of engine oil and sweat.

Lin Qinghan took a half step back, her eyes, hidden behind her black-rimmed glasses, as cold as a bottomless pool of icy water. Instead of rubbing her sore shoulder, she immediately shielded the heavy suitcase behind her, like a mother lioness protecting her cubs.

"Excuse me, miss."

Shen Jinghong quickly adjusted her state.

He pushed up his glasses, his face instantly breaking into that harmless, bookish smile, even feigning a slight unease. "I was thinking about a fluid mechanics formula, my mind wandered. Did I hurt you?"

Lin Qinghan looked him up and down.

The man in front of me was wearing a faded old trench coat, his hair was slightly messy, and although his eyes were clear, they revealed an innocence that had not yet been beaten down by society.

A typical bookworm who has become stupid from reading too much.

"Formulas can't calculate roadblocks, nor can they cure bruises."

Her voice remained cold and uncompromising, without the slightest hint of politeness. "Next time, wear your glasses. There are many people on the ship who don't want to cause trouble, and not everyone is as easy to talk to as I am."

Is this what you call being easy to talk to?

Shen Jinghong chuckled inwardly, but on the surface he appeared to be learning and nodded repeatedly.

"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right. Let me introduce myself. I'm Shen Jinghong from MIT, specializing in aerodynamics. So you're also returning to China? We're kindred spirits."

Upon hearing the words "MIT," Lin Qinghan's eyes flickered slightly, but only for a moment.

In this day and age, any overseas student who resolutely returns to China, even if they are a bookworm, deserves some respect.

"Lin Qinghan, University of Pennsylvania"

She briefly introduced herself, as if saying even one more word would be a waste.

Sure enough it was her.

Shen Jinghong's heart skipped a beat.

In her past life, she was a towering figure in the field of cryptography in China. She was the legendary goddess who, through countless sleepless nights, relied on an abacus and draft paper to decipher thousands of top-secret telegrams from enemy agents.

I never imagined that when he was young, Old Lin would have such an aloof and unapproachable demeanor.

Seeing the leather suitcase that was almost red from being squeezed by her wrist, Shen Jinghong very perceptively reached out her hand.

"Lin, this suitcase looks quite heavy. Since we're going the same way, how about I help you carry it for a bit?"

"Need not."

Almost reflexively, Lin Qinghan jerked to the side to avoid it, her voice suddenly rising eight octaves, "Don't touch it!"

This reaction is a bit excessive.

Several passing passengers looked over curiously.

Lin Qinghan seemed to realize her loss of composure. She took a deep breath and quickly regained her cold demeanor, though the knuckles of her fingers gripping the suitcase handle turned slightly white from the force.

"There are some fragile lab instruments inside, and I don't like others touching my things."

The explanation was very awkward.

Shen Jinghong saw through it but didn't say anything.

Fragile equipment? It's probably a box of codebooks and mathematical manuscripts that are more precious than gold.

"I understand, I understand. Those of us who do scientific research treat data like our lifeblood."

Shen Jinghong chuckled awkwardly and withdrew her hand, then turned to the side and made a "please" gesture, "Then please go first, I won't touch it, I'll just stand here and be your bodyguard."

Lin Qinghan glanced at him, seemingly finding the bookworm annoying but not threatening, and then ignored him, picking up her suitcase and turning to continue walking forward.

Shen Jinghong followed behind, but her eyes subtly swept around the surroundings.

The ship was a mixed bag.

Just around the corner not far ahead of them, a white man in a brown jacket was leaning against the wall smoking. He held a newspaper in his hand, but his eyes never fell on the words; instead, they were fixed on Lin Qinghan's suitcase like radar.

As Lin Qinghan passed by, the man's gaze turned greedy and sinister.

"Looks like I'm not the only one eyeing this juicy piece of meat..."

Shen Jinghong sneered inwardly.

That's true. A math genius of Lin Qinghan's caliber returning to China would be impossible for the CIA's sniffing team not to notice. They just might not be sure yet whether the box contains a dowry or classified information, so they're still observing.

The two walked one after the other through the narrow corridor to the end of the third-class cabin.

The environment here was much worse than upstairs; the air was damp, and you could even hear the roar of the ship's engines. But for poor students, having a bed was already a blessing.

Lin Qinghan stopped in front of a wooden door with peeling paint and took out her key.

"302".

Shen Jinghong glanced at the bronze key in her hand, which was engraved with "303".

It's right across from the door.

"What a coincidence, isn't it?"

Shen Jinghong shook the keys in her hand, a hint of surprise on her face. "Lin, we're neighbors. If we encounter any trouble along the way, we can look after each other."

Lin Qinghan opened the door, glanced back at him, and her eyes were full of "I don't want to be taken care of by you".

"Mr. Shen, there are many people and eyes on this ship. If it's for some kind of pointless social interaction or flirting, I suggest you save your energy."

She pushed up her glasses, her tone as calm as if stating a theorem, "I don't like being disturbed, especially by someone who can't even walk properly."

After he finished speaking, there was a "bang".

The door slammed shut right in front of Shen Jinghong's nose.

Only a cool breeze carrying the scent of jasmine remained.

"Tsk, what a thorny rose."

Shen Jinghong touched his nose, not angry at all, but rather finding it somewhat amusing.

If she were so easily won over, she wouldn't have become the "Iron Lady" who struck fear into the hearts of Western intelligence agencies.

He turned around and used the key to open the door to room 303.

The room was tiny, with only a single bed and a small table fixed to the floor; it was difficult to even turn around.

Shen Jinghong stuffed the empty box he had used as a prop under the bed, but didn't sit down immediately. He closed the door and first checked every corner of the room, even feeling under the bed frame.

Only after confirming there were no listening devices did he go behind the door.

Through the loose gap in the door, his gaze swept across the corridor like a falcon's.

The white man who had been smoking around the corner earlier did indeed follow us.

The person didn't approach, but pretended to be looking at the scenery at the end of the corridor, but his eyes never left the door of room 302.

"A swarm of flies."

Shen Jinghong's eyes turned slightly cold.

Protecting state property includes not only inanimate objects, but also living treasures like Lin Qinghan. If these spies dare to lay their claws on this ship, he wouldn't hesitate to chop them off one by one and feed them to the fish.

Just as he was figuring out how to teach that "fly" a lesson.

Suddenly, the crisp sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from the other end of the corridor.

"Tap, tap, tap."

The sound was very rhythmic, each beat feeling like it was stepping on one's heart.

Upon hearing the sound, the white man in charge of surveillance changed his expression slightly, immediately stubbed out his cigarette, and turned to dart into the stairwell like a mouse before a cat.

Shen Jinghong narrowed his eyes slightly.

A foreign woman wearing a red bodycon dress and with long, wavy blonde hair was swaying her hips as she walked gracefully towards them.

She held a slender cigarette in her hand, her red lips were like fire, and her eyes were so alluring they seemed to drip with moisture. Her figure was unbelievably hot, and her swaying gait instantly transformed the dimly lit, dilapidated corridor into a place of ambiguity.

But this woman wasn't targeting Lin Qinghan.

She walked straight to the door of 303—Shen Jinghong's room.

Shen Jinghong frowned.

Isn't this Ruth, the one who was pretending to admire the scenery on the deck but actually observing him the whole time?

Is the FBI still not giving up?

Or are these foreign devils thinking that hard tactics aren't working and planning to try softer ones?

"Thump, thump".

A soft knock sounded on the door, carrying a hint of provocation.

Immediately afterwards, a sickeningly sweet female voice came through the door:

"Sir, don't you feel lonely being alone in your room all night?"