Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

In Zhongnanhai, in that conference room that is regarded as a sacred place by countless later generations.

At this moment, the air seemed to solidify into a solid block of lead, weighing heavily on everyone's heart.

The lights were not on.

Only the cold moonlight filtering in from the window and the few smoky lamps on the table barely illuminated the room.

smoke.

There's too much smoke.

The entire conference room felt like it was encased in a giant blue cage.

The ashtray was already full, the cigarette butts were piled up like a small mountain, and many were even thrown directly on the ground, still flickering red light.

Those present are all people whose every stomp of their feet can shake the earth.

But now, their brows were furrowed, their expressions solemn, and their eyes, which had seen countless storms, were filled with deep worry and dilemma.

"It's difficult."

An economic official took off his glasses, rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and said in a hoarse voice:

"Our resources are too meager."

"The People's Republic of China had only been established for a year, and everything was in ruins. We finally managed to bring inflation under control, get factories back to work, and enable people to have food to eat."

He slammed a thin statistical table on the table, the force not heavy, but conveying a sense of despair:

"The United States produces 8772 million tons of steel, while we only produce 60 tons."

"Even a fraction of what they earn is more than what we earn."

"If this war breaks out, our nascent economic development will come to a complete standstill. What if... I mean, what if the flames of war cross the Yalu River and reach the industrial base of Northeast China..."

The consequences would be unimaginable.

That would be a setback of twenty years, or even the risk of national subjugation.

The conference room was deathly silent.

Only the wall clock was still ticking away, each second like a countdown.

Some advocate fighting, arguing that if the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold, and if the door is broken, the hall will

Some advocate for forbearance, arguing that the disparity in national strength is too great, and that it would be like throwing

The two sides were deadlocked, and neither could convince the other.

This is a high-stakes gamble concerning the fate of the nation, with the future of the Chinese nation at stake. No one dares to take this bet lightly.

He leaned back in his wicker chair, a cigarette between his fingers, his gaze fixed intently on the huge world map on the wall.

Amidst the swirling smoke, his expression was obscured; only his broad forehead and tightly pursed lips revealed a serene composure as imposing as a mountain.

a long time.

He slowly stubbed out the cigarette in his hand.

The movement was very light, but in the quiet conference room, it sounded like a thunderclap.

Everyone looked up at him.

He stood up.

He stretched out a large hand and slammed it heavily on the map that resembled a rooster, then sharply slashed his finger outward, pointing to the long, narrow peninsula.

"Comrades!"

"What you're saying makes sense. We are indeed poor, and we are indeed facing difficulties."

"but!"

He turned around, his gaze sharp and intense, sweeping across the entire room:

"They've put a knife to our throats, they've dropped bombs into our pots!"

"Tigers eat people. If you give in, they'll take advantage; if you beg for mercy, they'll become even more vicious!"

"It's going to eat people, what should we do?"

He suddenly swung his fist, striking hard in the air, creating a gust of wind:

"Then let's fight!"

"Beat it until it hurts! Beat it until it's terrified! Beat it until it's crawling on the ground, teeth all over!"

The air in the conference room instantly ignited.

The oppressive gloom vanished, replaced by a tragic yet passionate fervor.

He paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, his voice growing louder and louder:

These words were like a bolt of lightning, cleaving through the fog in everyone's hearts.

Yes.

If this punch isn't thrown, how much longer will this century of humiliation continue? Will this nation, which has just stood up, have to kneel down again?

"beat!"

"We must fight!"

The tone has been set.

send troops!

Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea, Protect Our Homeland!

However, after the initial excitement, the realities of life remain like a mountain, standing in the way of everyone.

How do I play?

What can we use to fight?

He turned to look at a burly, resolute-faced veteran next to him.

He was frowning, staring at the densely packed US military unit numbers on the map.

"I have no problem with fighting. It's just the equipment..."

To be honest:

"An American army is armed to the teeth. Airplanes, tanks, artillery—it's a three-dimensional firepower network. What about us? We have a hodgepodge of old guns from all over the world, and an entire army doesn't even have many decent cannons."

"This battle will be difficult."

"Our soldiers are not afraid to die, but I can't bear to watch them fight to the death with fire sticks."

These words were spoken with immense weight.

That was a responsibility to the lives of soldiers, and also a helpless response to the gap in reality.

The meeting room fell silent once again.

this is the truth.

Even the strongest spiritual atomic bomb cannot stop a real torrent of steel.

Just then.

In the corner, a figure who had remained silent and was even overlooked by many because of his youth slowly stood up.

The chair made a soft thud on the floor.

All eyes turned to them.

Shen Jinghong.

He was wearing an old military overcoat without collar insignia, holding a black briefcase in his arms, and his glasses on the bridge of his nose reflected the light, making him look refined and scholarly, even somewhat bookish.

But he showed no fear in front of this group of battle-hardened founding generals.

He straightened his collar, stepped to the conference table, and gave the great man and the veteran marshals a military salute that was not standard but exceptionally solemn.

"My lords."

Shen Jinghong's voice was clear and calm, yet it carried an undeniable power:

"Regarding the issue of equipment, I think I have the right to speak on this."

He looked up and sized up the young man. He had heard of this genius who had just returned to the country and knew that he had brought back many good things, but he had no idea exactly how many.

"You're Xiao Shen, right? I heard you brought back a few airplanes?"

He gave a wry smile and waved his hand. "That's good stuff, but it's a drop in the ocean. We're facing the American army, navy, and air force—a massive operation involving hundreds of thousands of troops. A few planes and a few cannons are like sprinkling pepper; they won't do any good."

In his view, the "samples" that Shen Jinghong brought back were invaluable for scientific research, but far from being suitable for fighting.

"You're right."

Shen Jinghong suddenly revealed an extremely confident, even somewhat arrogant, smile.

He placed the black briefcase on the table, tapping the leather surface lightly with his fingers, making a "tap-tap" sound.

"If it were a few planes and a few cannons, it would indeed be suicide."

"but……"

Shen Jinghong suddenly raised her head, her gaze fixed intently on President Peng and everyone present, and dropped a bombshell, word by word:

"If I say..."

"Our current firepower is not inferior to that of the Americans."

"Even...more powerful than them?"

"boom!"

As soon as these words were spoken,

The entire conference room erupted in chaos.

All the generals stared wide-eyed, as if they were looking at a madman or an arrogant fool who didn't know the immensity of the world.

Even more ferocious than the Americans?

How dare you say that?

Do you know how many planes and artillery the Americans have? Do you know what Van Fleet's ammunition capacity means?

That's a hell built of steel!

"Nonsense!"

An old general with a fiery temper couldn't hold back any longer. He slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "Young comrade, patriotism is admirable, but there's no room for frivolous talk in the military! Boasting at a time like this will only harm the country and its people!"

"Little baby."

Do you know what you're saying?

"Do you know how many 105mm howitzers, tanks, and air support sorties a US division has?"

His iron-blooded aura was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

"This is war! There are dead bodies! This isn't some lab where you draw blueprints!"

"What makes you so sure that...our firepower is stronger than the Americans'?"