Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The atmosphere in the Ministry of Geology's conference room was so oppressive it felt like you could wring water out of it.

The wind howled outside the window, and the coal stove inside burned red-hot, but it couldn't warm the hearts of the experts present, which were already feeling rather cold.

The ashtray was full, and white smoke swirled overhead like a persistent gloom.

"It's difficult, it's really too difficult."

An elderly geologist with graying hair took off his glasses, trembling as he wiped them with a soft cloth, his voice dry and hoarse like a handful of withered grass:

"Director Shen, it's not that we want to discourage you. The mechanized units you brought have good tanks and good planes, but they're all oil-guzzling monsters!"

He spread out the report in his hand, pointing to the rows of shocking deficits:

"Fuel reserves at the front are now below the warning line. Air Force aircraft are having their training time halved due to fuel shortages; logistics truck convoys sometimes have to wait by the roadside for fuel tankers."

"Western countries imposed a comprehensive oil embargo on us, and the oil price in the Soviet Union was ridiculously high, with an unstable supply."

The old expert sighed and slammed his glasses heavily on the table:

"Without fuel, those steel behemoths built by the Shenzhou Bureau are just piles of scrap metal! Just a bunch of immobile targets!"

The conference room was deathly silent.

Everyone kept their heads down, not daring to look at Marshal Nie sitting in the main seat, nor at the excessively young Shen Jinghong.

"Then shall we search for it ourselves?" Marshal Nie frowned and asked in a deep voice, "In such a vast country as China, is there really not a single drop of oil?"

"I've searched everywhere, I've looked all over."

Another PhD who had returned from studying abroad stood up, his tone filled with helplessness and despair:

"We searched in the Northwest and North China. However, according to the most authoritative Western theory of 'marine oil generation,' most of China's strata are terrestrial sediments, which is what is known as an 'oil-poor country.'"

He pointed to the huge geological survey map on the wall, which was covered with black crosses representing "dry wells":

"ExxonMobil, an American oil company, came to explore here as early as the 1920s and concluded that there were no exploitable oil fields in China."

"This is already a consensus in the international geological community."

"consensus?"

A soft laugh abruptly broke the suffocating silence.

Shen Jinghong sat in the corner, twirling a red and blue pencil in his hand, listening to the experts' "verdict." Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He stood up, the chair scraping against the floor with a screeching sound.

"Distinguished experts and senior colleagues."

Shen Jinghong walked to the map covered in black crosses, his gaze sweeping over the marks that represented despair, a sneer curling at the corner of his lips:

"The Americans said we couldn't win the Korean War, but what happened? They were driven back to the 38th parallel."

"The Americans said we couldn't build jet aircraft, but what happened? Our F-86s are using them as target practice over the Yalu River."

He turned abruptly, his pencil pointing directly at the overseas-educated PhD, his eyes sharp as knives:

"Now, the Americans say we're an oil-poor country, and you believe them?"

"Are you Chinese geologists, or mouthpieces for the Americans?!"

These words were spoken with great seriousness.

The doctor's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red. He wanted to retort, but was silenced by the sharp aura emanating from Shen Jinghong.

"Science requires evidence..." the old expert tried to smooth things over.

"evidence?"

Shen Jinghong sneered, "I'll give you the evidence."

He turned around and faced the huge map of China.

His gaze passed over Yumen, which was producing oil at the time but with meager output, and over Sichuan, which was still in the process of exploration.

Finally, his gaze fell on the Northeast, on that desolate land still covered in snow and known as the "Songliao Plain".

That place, in later generations, has a resounding name—Daqing.

"Snapped!"

Shen Jinghong's red and blue pencils were used to forcefully strike the core of the Songnen Plain. The pencil tip broke due to excessive force, leaving a bright red circle on the map.

"here."

His voice wasn't loud, but it resonated in everyone's ears:

"Songji No. 3 Well is located right here. Drill down, one thousand meters, two thousand meters."

"I'm putting my words right here."

Shen Jinghong turned around, two raging flames burning in her eyes—a flame of absolute control over the future, and a flame of profound love for this land.

"This is all oil."

"It's not one or two buckets, nor one or two wells."

He opened his arms as if to embrace the black ocean:

"That's a sea! A black, viscous sea of ​​oil, big enough to send our tanks across the world and our planes to the moon!"

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

The experts looked at each other, staring at Shen Jinghong as if she were a madwoman.

"The Songliao Plain? That's a typical terrestrial sedimentary area! How could it possibly have a large oil field?"

"This doesn't make any sense from a geological perspective! It's utter nonsense!"

"Director Shen, you're a genius when it comes to industry, but geological exploration isn't something you can just do with imagination to find oil! Drilling a deep well requires a huge amount of manpower and resources, and what if you hit nothing..."

Questions and criticisms arose one after another.

Nobody believed it.

In conventional wisdom, this is simply a fantasy.

"If we don't fight, we're doomed."

Shen Jinghong interrupted all the noise, walked up to Marshal Nie, placed his hands on the table, and spoke with a firm tone that bordered on obsessive:

"Sir, give me a team."

"I don't use the funding from the Department of Geology and Geophysics, nor do I use their equipment."

"I used people from Shenzhou Bureau and drilling rigs that I 'extorted' from the Soviets."

He held up three fingers, making a solemn pledge:

"Three months! Give me three months!"

"If I can't extract any oil, I, Shen Jinghong, will resign and become a gatekeeper for the Ministry of Geology!"

Marshal Nie looked at him.

Looking at this young man who once created countless miracles.

From Type 56 assault rifles to 155mm cannons, from bulletproof vests to jet fighters, Shen Jinghong had never let him down. This time, although it sounded absurd, Marshal Nie saw that familiar, reassuring certainty in those eyes.

"good!"

Marshal Nie slammed his fist on the table, overriding all objections:

"I trust you!"

"What do you need? Just say the word!"

"I need equipment, I need railcars."

Shen Jinghong straightened up, and the image of that tough guy holding the brake lever and stirring the mud with his body appeared in his mind.

That name is the totem of the oil industry in this era.

"More importantly, I need people."

Shen Jinghong's gaze turned northwest, towards the location of the Yumen Oilfield:

"I need to transfer someone over here. His name is Wang Jinxi."

"Only someone with bones as hard as steel like him could draw the 'blood' of our nation from that icy wasteland!"

……

three days later.

A military train loaded with heavy equipment, puffing out white smoke, chugged into Anda Station in Heilongjiang (then Daqing's name).

The car door opened.

A biting wind, mixed with snowflakes, instantly rushed into the carriage, chilling everyone to the bone.

This is the Great Northern Wilderness.

At temperatures as low as minus thirty degrees Celsius, water freezes instantly.

Wang Jinxi, wearing a tattered sheepskin coat stained with oil and a dog-skin hat, was the first to jump off the train.

He looked at the vast white wasteland before him, at the frozen, hard black earth, and his face, sculpted by wind and frost like a rock, showed no fear, but rather the excitement of a hungry wolf seeing meat.

"That's right!"

Wang Jinxi slammed the drill rod in his hand onto the ground, his loud voice causing the snow on the trees to fall in a flurry.

"As long as there's oil underground, I'd drill a hole even in the Great Northern Wilderness, or even in the King of Hell's palace!"

"Captain Wang!"

Not far away, Shen Jinghong, wrapped in his signature military overcoat, trudged through the snow, his steps uneven.

Behind him followed several heavy trucks completely covered by tarpaulins.

"Director Shen!"

Wang Jinxi quickly went to greet him, wiping his large hand on his clothes. He wanted to shake hands but was a little embarrassed. "Why did you come in person? It's cold here. Don't let a great intellectual like you catch a cold."

"I'm not cold."

Shen Jinghong smiled and grasped that rough, large hand; the iron-like touch made him feel incredibly at ease.

"Captain Wang, I brought you some good stuff."

He turned around and waved to Chen Weiguo behind him.

"Splash—"

Several soldiers simultaneously tore off the tarpaulin from the truck.

In the faint reflection of the snow, several brand-new, enormous machines painted with red anti-rust paint appeared before Wang Jinxi's eyes.

It was a heavy-duty deep-well drilling rig brought from the Soviet Union. After being heavily modified by the Shenzhou Bureau, it was equipped with a hydraulic power assist system and antifreeze device designed by Shen Jinghong.

The towering derrick, the sturdy drill bit, the brand-new diesel generator set…

Wang Jinxi's eyes widened instantly.

He moved closer like a bachelor who had just seen a stunning beauty, his hands trembling as he touched the cold steel, his breathing rapid and his eyes red.

"This...this is for us?"

Wang Jinxi's voice trembled. "This is a Yangluoer? This drilling rig... it's even bigger than the ones I saw in Yumen!"

Do you like it?

Shen Jinghong walked to his side and patted the huge drill:

"These are the guns we have."

"Comrade Wang Jinxi, the lifeline of our country lies buried beneath this land."

Shen Jinghong pointed to the ground beneath his feet, his voice echoing in the cold wind, stirring the passion of every oil worker:

Foreigners say we are an oil-poor country and that we can't survive without crude oil.

"I don't believe in this nonsense."

"With this gun, we'll throw this 'oil-poor' label right into the Pacific Ocean!"

Wang Jinxi suddenly raised his head.

A fierce fire burned in those tiger eyes.

"Director Shen, please don't worry!"

He slammed his fist into his chest, making a dull thud.

"If there really is oil down there, even without this machine, I, Wang Jinxi, will pry it out for you with my hands and even my teeth!"

"Let's do it!"

"For the rest of my life, I'll stick with this well to the very end!"