Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

"Boom—!!!"

The sound initially resembled muffled thunder from the depths of hell, but then transformed into a furious roar that tore through the heavens.

The black oil flow, carrying immense geological pressure, surged forth like a raging black dragon, instantly breaching the blowout preventer at the wellhead and shooting straight into the sky! It reached a height of tens of meters, a passionate eruption that the earth had suppressed for millions of years.

Black rain began to fall.

Thick, warm, and with a strong, pungent smell of crude oil, it splattered and crackled on the snow, on the drilling rig, and on the faces of everyone who looked up at it.

Wang Jinxi stood at the very front.

He was drenched in the black liquid, instantly turning into a black clay sculpture. But he didn't flinch, not even blinking. He stretched out his calloused hand, smeared it all over his face, and brought the black oil to his nose, inhaling it greedily.

That flavor was even more fragrant than his mother's aged wine, and more tempting than dumplings for the New Year.

"Oil! It's oil!"

Wang Jinxi suddenly jumped up, his feet, clad in tattered rubber shoes, stomping wildly in the mud, letting out a hoarse yet awe-inspiring roar:

"It's getting oil! We've extracted oil!"

"Comrades! We are not an oil-poor country! What we're standing on is oil!"

That shout was like igniting a powder keg.

The drilling team members who had been staring in disbelief instantly erupted in excitement.

"Hooray! It's getting oily!"

"We have fuel! The tanks can run! The planes can fly!"

The workers rushed into the black rain like madmen. Some took off their hats and threw them into the air, some hugged each other and wept bitterly, and some even lay down on the ground and licked the black liquid with their tongues. Even though it was bitter and astringent, in their hearts, it was the sweetest thing in the world.

Shen Jinghong stood on the periphery, not celebrating like the others.

He let the black oil droplets fall onto his pristine white turtleneck sweater and expensive trench coat. He reached out, caught a drop of oil, and gently rubbed it off.

Smooth, thick, and of excellent quality.

"This is the lifeblood of industry."

Shen Jinghong stared at the column of oil shooting straight into the sky, his eyes as deep and unfathomable as the black liquid:

"With it, our machines can run, and our national defense can be strong. It is the lifeblood of a nation."

He turned around and looked at Chen Weiguo, who was also covered in oil but grinning like a fool:

"Weiguo, stop grinning like an idiot. Quickly get someone to take samples and seal them; I need the specific data."

Half an hour later, in the makeshift laboratory.

Several geological experts held the newly released test report, their hands trembling as if they were playing a pipa.

"Chief...Chief!"

The leading senior expert was so excited his dentures almost fell out; pointing at the data in the report, he was incoherent:

"Incredible! Absolutely incredible! This oil layer thickness... this pressure... this is simply a treasure trove!"

"According to preliminary calculations, the reserves controlled by the Songji No. 3 well alone are enough to supply the entire country for fifty years! And there are definitely even larger oil reservoirs in the surrounding area!"

"Fifty years?"

Shen Jinghong smiled, walked to the map, and with a wave of his hand, drew an even larger circle around the red circle:

"Sir, your perspective is too narrow."

"Beneath this black soil lies a world-class super-large oil field. Even if we used it all at once, let alone for fifty years, it wouldn't be used up in a hundred!"

He turned abruptly, his gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping over everyone in the command post:

"Pass on my orders!"

"First, mobilize all the engineering resources of the Shenzhou Bureau and deploy all thirty Soviet drilling rigs! I'm going to launch a major campaign here; within three months, I want to see one hundred wells gushing oil!"

"Second, notify the Ministry of Railways to build railways and lay pipelines for me! The oil pipelines should be laid directly to the seaside, right to the entrance of the oil refinery!"

"third……"

Shen Jinghong paused, a shrewd glint flashing in his eyes:

"We must immediately begin construction on two large-scale oil refineries in Dalian and Lushun, each with a capacity of ten million tons. We not only want to use it ourselves, but also to turn this oil into finished products and sell them to oil-deficient countries!"

"Sell?" Chen Weiguo was taken aback. "Director, we don't even have enough for ourselves, why would we sell?"

"Who says it's not enough?"

Shen Jinghong pointed to the still-gushing oil well outside the window, his tone domineering:

"From now on, we can just drink one bowl and throw it away, and even use the oil to wash our feet!"

"We'll use this black blood to exchange for foreign exchange, for machine tools, for everything we want!"

The command post was bustling with activity, with telegrams and telephones ringing incessantly.

Every command issued represents the powerful beating of the nation's industrial heart.

into the night.

Shen Jinghong returned to his temporary dormitory in the oil field—a tin shack converted from a shipping container.

It was cold inside, but his heart was burning with warmth.

He was just about to lie down and rest for a while when the secure phone on the table suddenly rang.

"I am Shen Jinghong."

On the other end of the phone, Nie Shuai's voice came through, sounding somewhat solemn, yet also carrying a strange undertone:

"Jinghong, you're still awake, aren't you? I have some news you need to hear."

"What news?"

"Voice of America and Reuters have just released headlines simultaneously."

Marshal Nie's voice carried a suppressed anger:

"US President Truman, together with 16 countries including the United Kingdom and France, formally announced a 'comprehensive strategic embargo' on China."

"The most crucial one is—oil."

"They claimed that they would cut off all of China's oil import channels, whether by sea or land, and not allow a single drop of oil to flow into China."

"Their Secretary of State, Acheson, was even clamoring in the newspapers that he would make our planes unable to fly, our tanks into scrap metal, and our industrial system completely paralyzed in order to force us to surrender on the Korean battlefield."

Marshal Nie paused, seemingly waiting for Shen Jinghong's reaction:

"Jinghong, what do you think?"

Shen Jinghong held the receiver and paused for a moment.

Then, he couldn't help but burst out laughing.

He glanced out the window at the oil field, which was still ablaze with flames even in the dead of night, illuminating half the night sky, and then at the newly released geological report on the table, which revealed astonishing reserves.

"blockade?"

Shen Jinghong shook his head, picked up a copy of the New York Times that had just been delivered from the table, and looked at the huge headline on it: "Oil Embargo: The Last Noose Suffocating Red China."

A cold, mocking smile slowly crept onto his lips.

"Marshal Nie, do you think these Americans are like crows?"

"What do you mean?" Marshal Nie didn't understand.

"The news of the death was quite accurate, except it didn't reach the right family."

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

Flames erupted, instantly engulfing the sensational headline.

"They want to blockade our oil? They want to cut off our oil supply?"

"Alright, let them blockade it then."

Shen Jinghong leaned back in her chair, speaking into the microphone with a relaxed tone, as if she were discussing tomorrow's weather:

"Perfect timing! The oil from Daqing has just been sprayed out, and I was just wondering where to show it off."

"Since they've practically offered their faces, wouldn't it be a waste of the 'industrial blood's' popularity if we didn't give them a good slap?"

"Marshal Nie, could you please draft a manuscript for Xinhua News Agency?"

"What did you say?"

"Just say..."

Shen Jinghong narrowed his eyes, his voice revealing an arrogant air of someone who seemed to have the world under his thumb:

"The Chinese people do not need a single drop of oil from imperialism."

"Furthermore, given that our country has a 'slight surplus' of oil production capacity, in order to support the development of our brother countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, we have decided..."

"Exporting refined oil products!"

"Moreover, the portions are large, it's filling, and the price... is even cheaper than in America!"

On the other end of the phone, Marshal Nie remained silent for a full three seconds.

Immediately afterwards, a deafening, hearty laugh erupted:

"Hahaha! Good! What a perfect 'slightly surplus'!"

"That slap was resounding!"