Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The main entrance of Shenzhou Bureau.

Two rows of heavily armed sentries stood straight, like an insurmountable Great Wall of Steel.

Outside that imposing iron gate.

An old man wearing a tattered cotton-padded coat and with a head full of messy white hair was kneeling on the cold cement floor without any regard for his image.

The cold wind howled.

He swiped up the fallen leaves and slapped them hard against his wrinkled, tear-stained old face.

Shen Dayong.

This man, who was once arrogant and domineering in the courtyard, always talking about "the eldest brother being like a father," now resembles a mangy dog ​​with its spine broken.

"boom--"

The roar of the engine broke the silence.

A black Hongqi sedan, escorted by two military jeeps, slowly drove out of the gate.

Shen Dayong's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up.

He seemed to have found a lifeline, and with a burst of strength he didn't know where it came from, he suddenly sprang up from the ground.

"A stunning sight! A truly breathtaking sight!"

He screamed at the top of his lungs, spread his arms, and lunged at the accelerating car without regard for anything else.

"Squeak—!"

A screeching sound of brakes rang out instantly.

The tires left a black mark on the ground, and the front of the car came to a stop less than half a meter from Shen Dayong's knees.

"You're asking for it!"

The guard in the car in front broke out in a cold sweat and jumped out of the car to draw his gun.

"Don't use the gun."

The back window rolled down a crack, and a detached voice came out.

Upon seeing this, Shen Dayong immediately pounced on him.

Those hands, covered in chilblains and grime, clung tightly to the car window, their entire face pressed against it, squeezed and deformed, looking both ferocious and pitiful.

"Boss! Jinghong! I'm begging you!"

"Please save Yaozu! That's your own brother! Your own flesh and blood brother!"

Shen Dayong cried uncontrollably, tears and snot streaming down his face, his voice trembling with grief.

"I've heard about it! They're going to the front lines! They're going to their deaths!"

"The American planes are so powerful, they rain down bombs! Yaozu has been pampered since childhood, he's never done any hard labor, do you think he'll come back alive?"

"Jinghong, you're a high-ranking official now. Just say a word to your superiors! Transfer him back! Even if it's to clean toilets or carry manure, it's fine! As long as he doesn't go to the battlefield, he'll do anything!"

inside the car.

Shen Jinghong sat in the leather seat, still holding the document about the allocation of supplies to the front lines in her hand.

He turned his head to the side.

Through that thin glass, I looked out the window at the old man weeping bitterly.

There was a time when this same face had also sternly forced him to hand over his salary, to give up his house, and to sacrifice everything for his younger brother.

At that time, he was a stern father.

Now, he is a pathetic wretch, wagging his tail and begging for mercy.

But Shen Jinghong felt no ripples in her heart.

There wasn't even a hint of the pleasure of revenge.

It's like watching an insignificant stranger put on a poorly acted melodrama.

"Chen Weiguo, lower the window."

Shen Jinghong gave the order in a calm tone.

"Director, this old bastard..." Chen Weiguo looked disgusted, wishing he could go down and kick him a couple of times.

"Put it down."

The car window slowly rolled down.

The cold wind, carrying the unpleasant sour smell emanating from Shen Dayong, instantly filled the warm carriage.

Shen Dayong thought he had seen a glimmer of hope, and he trembled with excitement, reaching in to grab Shen Jinghong's sleeve.

"Jinghong! You agreed? You're willing to save him?"

Shen Jinghong leaned back slightly, avoiding the dirty hand.

He took off his glasses, took out a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, slowly wiped the lenses, and then put them back on.

The movements were elegant and composed.

The contrast between him and the disheveled old man outside the window was like heaven and earth.

"Shen Dayong".

Shen Jinghong spoke, her voice as calm as a lake in late autumn, revealing no emotion whatsoever:

"You're saying that's suicide?"

"Isn't it?" Shen Dayong wailed, "It was a hail of bullets, a meat grinder!"

"Yes, that's a meat grinder."

Shen Jinghong nodded, her gaze passing through Shen Dayong and landing on the distant north:

"But do you know how many people are in that meat grinder right now?"

"Hundreds of thousands."

"Hundreds of thousands of young people, some as old as Shen Yaozu, and some even younger."

Shen Jinghong's gaze suddenly turned cold, sharp as a blade, piercing straight into Shen Dayong's heart:

"They were born of parents too."

"They are also the apple of their family's eye and the hope of their parents."

"If they can go, why can't your son?"

"Is your son's life made of gold, while other people's lives are worthless?"

"No...no..."

Shen Dayong shrank back, stung by that gaze, and stammered in defense, "But Yaozu is different... He's never suffered, he's immature..."

"Immature?"

Shen Jinghong sneered, a cruel smile curving his lips:

"He was quite sensible when gambling."

"Even when loan sharks were driving people to their deaths, he was quite sensible."

"He was more sensible when he stabbed me with a knife."

He leaned forward, staring into Shen Dayong's cloudy eyes, and said, word by word:

"Shen Dayong, you should thank me."

"Thank you for giving him a chance to atone."

"He's a menace in the rear, a piece of trash. Send him to the front lines, make him carry explosives and transport artillery shells."

"If he manages to survive, it's a stroke of luck; it means that God still wants to give him a chance to start anew."

"If he dies..."

Shen Jinghong paused, his tone turning incredibly chilling, like a judgment from hell:

"That's him paying for the sins he committed in this life."

"It's to accumulate the last bit of good karma for your filthy Shen family."

"You...you..."

Shen Dayong looked as if he had been struck by lightning, his mouth agape, his finger trembling as he pointed at Shen Jinghong.

He didn't expect it.

He really didn't expect that.

This eldest son, who was once the most obedient, has now hardened his heart to this extent.

It's harder than the steel plate of a cannon!

"You...you have such a cruel heart!"

Shen Dayong roared in despair, "You'll get your comeuppance! Aren't you afraid of being gossiped about behind your back?"

"retribution?"

Shen Jinghong smiled.

He straightened his collar, sat up straight, and resumed the dignified and aloof demeanor of someone in a superior position.

"I don't believe in karma."

"I only believe in justice."

"Shen Yaozu's justice is to go to the front lines as cannon fodder. And your justice..."

Shen Jinghong glanced at him, her eyes filled with disgust:

"It was in this cold wind that you watched your most beloved youngest son walk step by step into the abyss, and you were powerless to stop him."

Done.

He didn't look at it again and gently pressed the window close button.

"Buzz—"

The black glass slowly rose, like an insurmountable gate, ruthlessly severing the last connection between father and son.

"drive."

Shen Jinghong's voice came from inside the car, cold and resolute.

"yes!"

Chen Weiguo floored the accelerator.

"boom--"

The Hongqi sedan let out a deep roar, its tires kicking up dust as it mercilessly brushed past Shen Dayong.

There was no slowdown.

There was no turning back.

All that was left was the old man kneeling on the ground, crying his heart out, surrounded by a pungent smell of exhaust fumes and a cloud of dust.

inside the car.

Shen Jinghong closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and let out a long breath.

ended.

This time, it's truly over.

The family of origin that haunted him for two lifetimes, the nightmare that haunted him like a vampire, was finally severed by his own hands.

My heart feels empty.

But more than anything, it felt like an unprecedented sense of ease.

It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted, and my soul felt lighter.

"Chief, where are we going?"

Chen Weiguo glanced at the rearview mirror and asked cautiously.

Shen Jinghong opened her eyes.

The trace of weariness in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by two blazing flames.

That was the look of a warrior.

"To the train station."

Shen Jinghong glanced at the darkening sky outside the window, his voice low and powerful:

"The special train carrying the first batch of troops to North Korea is about to depart."

"There, there are my guns, my cannons, and..."

He paused, and images of those young, innocent faces with resolute gazes flashed through his mind.

That was Wu Qianli.

It was Wu Wanli.

These are countless heroes who are about to brave the icy wilderness for the sake of this country.

"And my brothers."

Shen Jinghong clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white:

"The trash at home has been cleared out."

"Now, it's time to send off those...true relatives."