Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

As soon as Shen Jinghong stepped across the threshold, the courtyard behind him erupted into chaos, like a pot of boiling water.

Although separated by thick courtyard walls, Liu Cuihua's unique, high-pitched voice, carrying a hint of arrogance and shrewdness, still managed to reach Shen Jinghong's ears on the wind blowing through the alley.

"Oh, sister-in-law, you have no idea! My eldest son is such a filial son!"

"He's used to living a life of luxury in America, and he feels sorry for his younger brother suffering in China. That's why, as soon as he walked in, without even having a sip of water, he offered to give that cadre position to Yaozu!"

"We tried to persuade him, saying it wasn't fair to him. But this kid is stubborn, insisting that the eldest brother is like a father, and that his younger brother's lack of success is his responsibility as the older brother. Tell me, isn't this kid crazy? Giving up a perfectly good official position, he insists on becoming... what's that word again? Right, a 'brother-supporting demon'!"

Next came the sour, yet unavoidable, hoarse voice of old man Yan Bugui:

"The Shen family has such a fine family tradition! Brotherly love and respect—they're a model for our neighborhood! I'll have to write a letter of commendation to the neighborhood committee later; this year's 'Five-Good Family' rotating red flag definitely belongs to your family!"

"That's right! Yaozu is a lucky man. If he becomes a cadre in the future, he shouldn't forget about us old neighbors!"

The sounds of flattery, laughter, and Liu Cuihua's feigned modesty intertwined to create an absurd symphony.

Shen Jinghong stood under the crooked tree at the entrance of the alley, listening to these words. The smile on her lips deepened, but the coldness in her eyes grew stronger.

Public opinion is hijacking.

This is the trick these people are best at.

First, we'll lavish praise on you, labeling you as "filial" and "sensible," and then solidify the agreement in front of the entire neighborhood. If you dare to back out later, you'll be considered unrighteous and disgraceful, a disgrace to everyone in the neighborhood, and you'll be drowned in their spittle.

This is called "killing with praise".

"Keep praising them, keep praising them!"

Shen Jinghong took out a handkerchief from her pocket and slowly wiped away the dust that had gotten on her during the performance, muttering to herself:

"The higher you build the stage now, and the louder you beat the gongs and drums, the bigger the commotion will be when the stage collapses at night, and the more devastating the fall will be."

He didn't look back at the house filled with scheming and malice, but instead turned and walked to the roadside.

A rickshaw was leaning against the wall, and the driver, a thin man, was wiping sweat with a towel around his neck.

"Master, shall we go?"

Shen Jinghong waved.

The driver, seeing that the man was a young man in an old overcoat, didn't think much of it, draped a towel over his shoulder, and asked warmly, "Here you go, sir! Where are you going?"

Shen Jinghong stepped into the car, sat on the slightly worn seat, and looked toward the direction of the capital city, the most mysterious and majestic place in all of China.

He uttered three words softly, his voice not loud, but it almost made the driver's legs cramp:

"Jingshan Qianjie".

The driver paused, glanced back at him, and said with a hint of surprise and doubt in his eyes, "Sir, that's...that's right under the red walls, our carriage..."

"Just pull, you don't need to go inside when we get there."

Shen Jinghong pulled a crumpled US dollar bill from her pocket—the spare change she had deliberately left in the lining of the suitcase—and flicked it to the driver. "Is this enough?"

The driver's eyes widened at the sight of the bright green US dollars, and he immediately forgot all his previous concerns.

"Enough! Enough! Hold on tight!"

With a shout of "Yo-ho!", the driver pulled on the handlebars, and with a gust of wind in his legs, the rickshaw shot out of the alley like an arrow.

In late autumn in Beijing, the wind already carries a touch of bleak chill.

The gray walls and gray tiles on both sides rushed past in the line of sight. Shen Jinghong leaned against the back of the car and swayed slightly with the bumps of the car.

At that moment, his demeanor underwent a dramatic transformation.

Just now in the courtyard, the timid and cowardly older brother who dared not utter a word even when he was wronged disappeared; the cunning foreign student who talked big and outwitted the secret agents also vanished.

He slowly removed the pair of gold-rimmed glasses he used to feign refinement from his nose, folded them neatly, and put them in his jacket pocket.

Without the lenses obscuring their view, those eyes, which had previously seemed rather tepid, suddenly blazed with a sharp light that was almost blinding.

That's the aura of a top scientist who has weathered many storms, who holds the nation's most important instruments, and who can single-handedly stir up the world's fortunes.

Cold, confident, and domineering.

"system."

He silently prepared a list of "gifts" for his meeting. Also, he retrieved the "Shenzhou Bureau" organizational plan.

[Beep! List generated. F-86 production line, uranium enrichment centrifuge units, special alloy formulas, Federal Reserve gold reserves...]

The architecture plan for the China National Space Administration is ready.

Shen Jinghong closed her eyes and quickly went through these astonishing data in her mind.

He knew very well that his next meeting would completely change the fate of the country and also completely rewrite his own life.

Compared to these grand futures, the trivial matters of the Shen family are nothing but dust.

The only reason I still had to act in this play with them was to seek the last bit of justice for the wronged soul of the original owner.

"Sir, we've arrived."

After an unknown amount of time, the driver's panting voice came, tinged with fear, "I dare not go any further ahead... that's a military restricted area, there are sentries."

Shen Jinghong opened her eyes.

Before me lay a wide and solemn avenue. Not far away, two vermilion gates stood tightly shut, with two armed sentries standing guard like two iron towers against the red wall behind them.

That solemn and dignified aura inspired awe even from a distance.

Thanks.

Shen Jinghong jumped out of the car, straightened his collar, and the old trench coat that originally looked somewhat shabby now looked like a fierce army on his body.

He carried the tattered leather suitcase and walked step by step toward the gate that represented the highest power in the country.

With each step he took, his gaze grew more resolute.

"stop!"

Before they even got close to the cordon, a sharp shout suddenly rang out.

A young sentry, rifle raised slightly, watched the uninvited guest warily. "Military restricted area. No unauthorized personnel allowed! Please leave immediately!"

These days, not many people dare to wander around this place, especially strangers carrying suitcases, who are the focus of investigation.

Shen Jinghong stopped in her tracks.

He was not deterred by the dark muzzle of the gun; instead, he straightened his back and stood tall like a pine tree.

He looked at the young sentry, a gentle yet powerful smile on his face. The composure that emanated from his very being made the sentry pause in surprise.

"Comrade, I'm not looking for anyone, I'm here to report for duty."

Shen Jinghong slowly raised her hand, her movements unhurried and deliberate, as if afraid of causing a misunderstanding.

He reached into his pocket, not to pull out a gun or a bomb, but to pull out a small, dark red identification booklet.

The cover of the document had no text, only a gold-embossed national emblem that gleamed in the sunlight.

"Please inform them."

Shen Jinghong handed over the documents, her voice calm yet carrying a thunderous, explosive quality:

"Tell Marshal Nie that the 'ghost' he's been waiting for for three years has returned with her dowry."