Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

"Click".

The call was disconnected.

This soft sound was like a switch, instantly severing the tender and intimate atmosphere in the office.

Shen Jinghong slowly turned around, and the sunny, cheerful boy who had flirted with his female assistant over stealing a single grain of rice was gone.

Instead, a tiger whose territory had been invaded appeared.

The lingering tenderness in his eyes, which hadn't quite faded, now seemed frozen solid by the harshness of ice, transforming into a chilling killing intent. He loosened his tie, a cold, bloodthirsty smile playing on his lips.

"Target...a young scholar?"

"That's interesting."

Shen Jinghong walked to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains. Outside, the dark Yanshan Mountains resembled a sleeping dragon, appearing particularly menacing in the howling wind of the night.

"It seems that our Shenzhou Bureau's security measures are still not good enough, or... someone has already planted a mole."

Lin Qinghan has quickly gotten into work mode.

She showed no sign of panic, and even her earlier shyness vanished without a trace. She quickly pulled a codebook from her briefcase—her own compilation, currently the most advanced code-breaking dictionary in the country.

"Based on the radio frequency characteristics provided by Chen Weiguo, this 'Viper' is no ordinary spy."

Lin Qinghan's fingers flew across the codebook, her speech rapid, like a sophisticated computer outputting data:

"This was the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics' top assassin back then. His real name is unknown, but his code name comes from his style of doing things—insidious, patient, and deadly. His greatest strength was not in direct attacks, but in creating surprises."

"Accident?"

Shen Jinghong raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, an accident."

Lin Qinghan raised his head, his cold eyes filled with solemnity. "Car accidents, food poisoning, even a seemingly ordinary street fight. In his hands, death never needs a reason, only a coincidence."

She slammed a fragmented telegram that had just been deciphered onto the table:

"Look here—'Find the habit, create contact, silently clear'."

"This means he has figured out your routine and doesn't intend to use a gun. A gunshot would be too loud and alert the guard unit. He's probably going to use something more insidious."

Shen Jinghong picked up the telegram and glanced at it.

"Looking for habits?"

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "These past few days I've been going back and forth between the base and home. What habits could he possibly have that would give him an opening?"

"You have."

Lin Qinghan adjusted her glasses, her tone certain, "You like browsing secondhand bookstores. Especially the antique bookstores in Liulichang. You just went there the day before yesterday, and you even had the driver wait outside while you browsed for an hour."

Shen Jinghong was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

That was to cover his tracks. In reality, he was using the system space to "purchase" some rare ancient books scattered among the people to fill the empty database of the Shenzhou Bureau.

Unexpectedly, this became a "refined hobby" in the eyes of the spies.

"It seems this 'Viper' is planning to send me on my way amidst the piles of books."

Shen Jinghong crumpled the telegram into a ball and casually threw it into the stove.

The flames instantly engulfed the paper ball, reflecting red onto his angular face.

"Since he thinks I'm just a bookworm who only knows how to study, then I'll play this role well."

Shen Jinghong turned around and looked at Lin Qinghan, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of a hunter spotting its prey:

"Inform Chen Weiguo to keep things relaxed on the outside but tight on the inside. Remove half of the security personnel tomorrow, especially those in military uniforms; they're too conspicuous and might scare the snake away."

"You're going to use yourself as bait?!"

Lin Qinghan's expression changed, and her voice suddenly rose, "No! This is too dangerous! 'Viper' is a master of venom, what if..."

"There's no 'what if'."

Shen Jinghong interrupted her, walked over, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

His palms were warm, the warmth emanating through the thin fabric of his clothes, carrying an irresistible sense of calm.

"Qinghan, you have to trust your chief. Drugs? Underhanded tactics?"

Shen Jinghong leaned close to her ear and chuckled softly, his tone utterly arrogant:

"In this field, I am his ancestor."

……

In the depths of a dilapidated alley in the southern part of Beijing.

In a basement room reeking of mold and Chinese medicine, a dim oil lamp flickered with a faint light.

On the wall, there was an enlarged black and white photograph.

The person in the photo, wearing a trench coat and gold-rimmed glasses, smiles with a refined and elegant air; it is Shen Jinghong.

A withered hand, like a chicken claw, holding a red pen, drew a sharp cross on the throat of the photograph.

"Youth is wonderful."

A hoarse voice, as if it had been sanded, rang out from the shadows.

The speaker sat in a tattered rattan chair, his entire body huddled in a large black cotton-padded coat, obscuring his face. Only his murky, yet venomous, cold eyes were visible.

This is a "viper".

A top assassin who has been lurking in the capital for three years, with seven lives on his hands, yet has never failed and has never even revealed his whereabouts.

"Unfortunately, the younger they are, the more arrogant they become."

"Viper" picked up an extremely thin steel needle from the table.

The needle tip gleamed with a ghostly blue light under the lamplight—the color of a highly toxic substance. A cyanide variant; a mere prick of the skin could paralyze a person's heart in three seconds, leaving no chance of survival.

"You think I can't do anything to you just because you live in a military-controlled area?"

He let out a strange, cawing laugh, the sound like the wailing of an owl:

"As long as you still go out, as long as you still have hobbies, you're a dead man."

He slowly stood up and walked to the mirror.

The image reflected in the mirror was not that of a ruthless killer, but of an honest-looking, weathered old farmer.

He skillfully smeared soot from the bottom of a pot on his face, then stuck a yellow stain on his teeth, and hunched his back slightly, instantly transforming into an old country man selling vegetables in the city.

That's his disguise.

Hidden away in the city.

Who would be wary of an old farmer who looks like he can't even walk properly and just chuckles foolishly?

Tomorrow will be a good day.

"Viper" picked up the poisoned needle, carefully hid it in the lining of his sleeve, and then blew out the oil lamp.

In the darkness, his voice seemed to be a whisper from hell:

"Director Shen, although the old books in Liulichang smell nice, they are for burning for the dead."

"Tomorrow, I will send you to the underworld so you can read it slowly."

……

The next day, early in the morning.

Sunlight pierced through the thin mist and shone on the quaint Liulichang Street.

This is a cultural landmark of Beijing. As soon as the old shops like Rongbaozhai and Wenkuitang were taken down, the fragrance of ink and paper filled the air.

Although the chaos of war had just ended, the refined tastes of scholars were always the first to revive.

The streets were bustling with people: cadres carrying briefcases, elderly people in long gowns, and peddlers carrying loads and hawking their wares.

Shen Jinghong deliberately didn't wear her military uniform today.

He changed into a slightly worn Zhongshan suit, held a folding fan in his hand, and still wore those gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, looking like a university teacher who had just received his salary and came here to find some good stuff.

Moreover, he is a person.

At least on the surface, he is one person.

Chen Weiguo's guard platoon had all changed into civilian clothes and were scattered in the crowd dozens of meters away. If you didn't look carefully, you wouldn't notice that those selling candied hawthorns and shining shoes actually had weapons tucked into their belts.

"This copy of 'Yingzao Fashi' is quite good, boss. How much is it?"

Shen Jinghong stood in front of a used bookstore, picked up a thread-bound book, and flipped through it with an air of seriousness, seemingly completely immersed in the ocean of knowledge.

But his eyes, hidden behind his glasses, were constantly scanning everyone who approached him using the peripheral vision of the system.

[Beep! Target locked.]

[Five meters to the left rear, an old farmer carrying a load on a shoulder pole. His heart rate is abnormal, his muscles are tense, and there is a metallic sheen in his sleeve.]

The system notification sounded coldly in my mind.

coming.

Shen Jinghong's lips curled up almost imperceptibly.

He didn't turn around, but pretended to be engrossed in reading, while subtly adjusting his body angle to "inadvertently" expose his most vulnerable back to the opponent's attack path.

This is a perfect flaw.

It is also a fatal temptation.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!"

A shout, slightly accented with local dialect, came from behind me.

The old farmer, carrying two baskets and looking unsteady on his feet, was "struggling" to squeeze through the crowd.

He seemed to have been bumped by a passerby, stumbled, and his whole body, along with the heavy load, crashed straight into Shen Jinghong.

Everything seemed so natural, yet so unexpected.

This is the "Viper's" special skill.

By taking advantage of the crowd, a seemingly accidental collision is created. In the instant of the collision, a poisoned needle hidden in the sleeve will silently pierce the target's body.

No bloodshed, no fighting.

It only takes a light touch.

"Ouch!"

The old farmer let out a startled cry, leaning forward. His rough, large hand, seemingly for balance, actually grabbed Shen Jinghong's shoulder with lightning speed.

The faint blue glint at his fingertips was almost invisible in the sunlight.

Nearly.

closer.

Just as the poisoned needle was less than a centimeter away from Shen Jinghong's clothes.

Shen Jinghong continued reading with her head down, seemingly oblivious to her impending death.

"puff."

A very faint muffled thud.

It felt like a mosquito bite.

The poisoned needle pierced the fabric and embedded itself in the flesh.

A flicker of wild joy flashed in Viper's eyes.

Success!

This poison is lethal upon contact with blood; in just three seconds, this young genius will suffer cardiac arrest and collapse dead. And I, all I need to do is apologize profusely and blend into the crowd, and I can escape unscathed.

A perfect assassination.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, buddy!"

"Viper" immediately withdrew his hand, his face plastered with a timid and fearful expression. He nodded and bowed repeatedly, apologizing, "I slipped, did I hurt you?"

As he spoke, he silently counted in his mind:

three.

two.

One.

fall!

however.

A second passed.

Two seconds passed.

The "scholar" who should have been clutching his chest and collapsing to the ground in convulsions, instead stood there steadily and confidently.

Shen Jinghong slowly closed the book in her hand and turned around.

He looked at the old farmer in front of him who was still acting, and a gentle smile appeared on his face that was as warm as a spring breeze, yet made "Viper" feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

"Sir, you have quite a strong grip!"

Shen Jinghong reached out and patted the spot where she had been pricked with the needle, her tone as relaxed as if she were chatting with a neighbor:

"These nails are a bit long, and they prick me painfully. Remember to trim your nails next time you go out."

The smile on Viper's face froze.

How is that possible?

That's cyanide!

Even an elephant would stagger if it got pricked, but this kid is acting like nothing happened.

Could it be that the needle didn't go in? Or was the medicine expired?

"Are you...you're alright?"

"Viper" asked instinctively, his voice tinged with barely concealed terror.

"What could possibly be wrong with me?"

Shen Jinghong countered with a question, taking a step forward. Behind her gold-rimmed glasses, her eyes now resembled two sharp swords capable of piercing the soul, locking onto "Viper's" gaze.

"But you, sir, don't look too well. Is it... because you've done too many bad things and feel guilty?"