Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

"laugh--"

A slight tearing sound was particularly clear in the silent conference room.

Shen Jinghong's hands were steady, and his movements were swift. He tore open the seal of the silver aluminum foil bag, laid the heating pack flat at the bottom, then picked up the water pitcher on the table and poured in a small cup of cold water without even using hot water.

The water level just covered the heating pack.

Everyone stared wide-eyed, as if looking at a peculiar spectacle, intently fixed on the inconspicuous bag.

"Is that all?"

An old general couldn't help but ask, "No need to light a fire? No need for electricity?"

"Need not."

Shen Jinghong quickly put the inner bag containing rice and dishes inside, folded it up and sealed it, then smiled and took a step back.

"It only needs a little water, even snowmelt or dirty water, just pour it into the heating layer and it will work. Look, everyone, the moment to witness a miracle has arrived."

The voice just fell.

The bag, which had been shriveled, suddenly expanded rapidly as if it had been inflated.

Immediately afterwards, a rapid "bubbling" boiling sound came from the bag, and a thin, rapid stream of white steam shot out from the vent.

The heat was intense.

Even from a meter away, you can feel the intense heat emanating from the air.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

Marshal Nie stretched out his hand in surprise, waving it above the steam and feeling the real heat. "This temperature must be at least 80 or 90 degrees Celsius, right? If you put this in your clothes, it would burn off a layer of skin!"

"This is called quicklime releasing heat when it comes into contact with water, but we added something to make it heat up for longer and more intensely."

Shen Jinghong offered an explanation, but soon he realized that no one was listening to his explanation of the principle.

Because an extremely domineering fragrance had already followed the wisp of steam and forcefully entered everyone's nostrils.

That's the rich, meaty aroma that comes from the oil mixed with spices, cooked at high temperatures.

It tastes like braised beef.

In an era where even rice mixed with lard is considered a luxury, this rich meaty aroma is simply the most ruthless bombardment of the taste buds.

"Gulp."

In the conference room, someone swallowed hard.

Then came a series of swallowing sounds. Even these seasoned generals with their strong willpower were now completely captivated by the aroma, their stomachs rumbling wildly as if in rebellion.

"This smells so good..."

General Peng sniffed, his eyes fixed on the bag, unable to look away. "It smells even better than what the chef at the Beijing Hotel makes!"

A few minutes later.

The steam gradually subsided.

Shen Jinghong checked the time, stepped forward, and tore open the inner bag.

"Splash!"

He poured the steaming hot braised beef over white rice, the bright red broth instantly soaking into the glistening rice grains. Large chunks of beef were piled on top, accompanied by bright green dehydrated vegetables and a few slices of luncheon meat.

This bowl of rice is a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate.

"Comrades, stop looking and have a taste."

Shen Jinghong handed the chopsticks to General Peng, saying, "These are for the soldiers. Please check them out for them first."

When President Peng took the chopsticks, his hand trembled slightly.

He picked up a piece of beef and put it in his mouth.

Tender and flavorful, the oil bursts on the tongue, and the hot, satisfying sensation slides down the esophagus into the stomach, instantly dispelling all the chill.

President Peng closed his eyes, chewed for a long time, and was reluctant to swallow.

When he opened his eyes again, those tiger-like eyes, which were always full of fortitude and iron will, were filled with a layer of turbid tears.

"Okay...okay!"

General Peng's voice choked with emotion. He abruptly put down the bowl, turned around, and wiped his face hard with his sleeve.

"Mr. Peng, what's wrong...?"

The generals nearby panicked, thinking there was something wrong with the food.

"I'm happy! I'm happy for the soldiers!"

General Peng turned around, pointed to the bowl of rice, his finger trembling:

"You know what? Just a moment ago, I thought of the Long March."

"Back then, when we crossed the grasslands, what did we eat? Leather belts and grass roots! When we got to northern Shaanxi, the best we could have was a bowl of millet porridge!"

His voice became low and mournful, as if squeezed from his chest:

"I was fully prepared for this trip to North Korea. I was prepared for the soldiers to eat frozen potatoes and have a handful of fried noodles followed by a handful of snow!"

"There was no other way! If we didn't eat that, we'd starve to death! But if we ate it, our stomachs would ache like we had severe abdominal cramps, and the soldiers would collapse in droves before they even saw the enemy!"

General Peng grabbed Shen Jinghong's hand and held it tightly, so tightly that Shen Jinghong felt a sharp pain.

"Jinghong, you're not cooking, you're saving a life!"

"With this hot meal, our soldiers can lie in the snow for a whole day and night, their bodies warm and their hearts warm!"

"This bowl of rice is worth the fighting power of an entire division!"

"That's right!"

Marshal Nie also picked up a bowl and ate heartily, nodding as he ate, "This is high in calories and oil, one meal is enough for a whole day! What do Americans eat? I heard it's cold sandwiches and canned food? Compared to our self-heating hot pot, theirs is just pig swill!"

"This time, it's our turn to make them drool!"

The atmosphere in the meeting room changed completely from the initial solemnity to the festive joy of Chinese New Year.

The generals disregarded their image, each holding a lunchbox, squatting on chairs or in corners, eating with their mouths full of oil and panting heavily.

Seeing this scene, Shen Jinghong felt a bittersweet tenderness in her heart.

He silently stepped aside, watching these elderly people who had devoted themselves to the country.

The horrific scenes from his past life's history books kept flashing through his mind.

The temperature at Changjin Lake is minus forty degrees Celsius.

The volunteer soldiers, dressed in thin cotton-padded clothes, lay in ambush in the snow. Afraid of revealing their position, they dared not light a fire. When hungry, they would grab a handful of fried noodles from their ration bags and stuff them into their mouths; if the noodles were too dry to swallow, they would grab a handful of snow from the ground.

That kind of cold was bone-chilling.

That kind of hunger was like a burning fire.

Many young soldiers, in this extreme hunger and cold, maintained their fighting posture and were forever turned into ice sculptures.

"No more."

Shen Jinghong clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her flesh.

He silently made a vow in his heart:

"In this lifetime, I will never let this tragedy repeat itself."

"I want you to wear the warmest clothes, eat the hottest meals, use the most powerful cannons, and fight the most exhilarating battles!"

"I want to turn that frozen Yalu River into a smooth road to victory, not an insurmountable barrier blocking our way home!"

The meeting went on until late at night.

Until everyone was beaming with health, and until all the battle plans were redeployed thanks to the addition of this batch of "god-level equipment".

"Meeting adjourned!"

General Peng stood up, straightened his uniform, and gave Shen Jinghong a solemn salute:

"Comrade Shen Jinghong, on behalf of all the soldiers of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army, thank you!"

See you at the front lines!

See you at the front lines!

Shen Jinghong returned the salute, watching the commander, who was about to embark on his campaign, stride away. His departing figure was as majestic as a mountain.

As I walked out of Zhongnanhai, the night breeze was slightly cool.

But Shen Jinghong felt a burning heat all over his body, a kind of exhilarating feeling after accomplishing a mission.

He stood on the steps, took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air of the capital city at night, and looked at the clear, cold moon overhead. He felt as if all the pent-up emotions in his heart had been released.

Matters in the heavens, matters on earth, matters inside the stomach.

He has resolved everything.

Next, on that foreign land, they would write a new chapter in history with steel and fire.

"Chief."

A deep voice came from the shadows.

Chen Weiguo had been waiting by the car for quite some time. Looking at his director's slightly tired but energetic face, he quickly stepped forward and opened the car door.

"Is everything done?" Shen Jinghong got into the car and rubbed his throbbing temples.

"It's done."

Chen Weiguo got into the passenger seat, turned around, and his expression was somewhat strange, carrying a sense of satisfaction at having avenged a great wrong, mixed with a bit of awe for his bureau chief's methods:

"As per your instructions, the arrangements for Shen Yaozu... have been made."

"Oh?"

Shen Jinghong raised an eyebrow, leaned back in her chair, and asked casually:

"How was it arranged?"

Chen Weiguo grinned, revealing a set of white teeth that looked particularly sinister in the night.

"The prison made a special exception because of his 'positive performance' and his 'family' strongly requested that he serve the country."

He was assigned to the "Special Transport Brigade" of the Logistics Headquarters.

"Special transport?" Shen Jinghong laughed. "That sounds pretty fancy."

"It's quite stylish."

Chen Weiguo lowered his voice and chuckled:

"They were basically suicide squads. They were specifically responsible for carrying explosives and shells on their backs in the areas where enemy bombing was most intense."

"Moreover, I made a special trip to speak with the person in charge there."

"I said, this is Director Shen's own younger brother, he's very conscientious, he must be sent to the most difficult and dangerous places to train, don't take care of him!"

As Shen Jinghong listened, the smile on her lips deepened.

The most dangerous place.

Carrying a bomb on his back.

Above us were American planes, and below us was a world of ice and snow.

For a coward like Shen Yaozu, who is spoiled and afraid of death, this is hardly a form of training.

This is practically a VIP experience card for the eighteenth level of hell.

"very good."

Shen Jinghong nodded, turned to look at the dark night outside the window, her eyes filled with no pity, only a detached indifference that seemed to have settled into a state of tranquility.

"Doesn't he like to suck blood? Doesn't he like to steal other people's things?"

"Then let him go to the battlefield and repay his debts with his own blood."

"As for whether I can come back alive..."

Shen Jinghong closed her eyes and whispered:

"Then let's see if his worthless life is tough enough."

The car started and slowly drove into the night.

All personal matters are now settled.

Shen Jinghong knew that when the sun rose tomorrow, what awaited him would be an even more magnificent, and even more cruel and bloody new chapter.

And in that chapter.

There were no trivial family matters, only national and personal grievances.

There was no backstabbing, only—

It's a fight to the death!