Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The air in the corridor was a bit stuffy, and the dim light bulbs overhead made a buzzing sound and flickered from time to time, casting the shadows of the two people in an irregular pattern.

Shen Jinghong leaned against the wall, showing no sign of panic despite Lin Qinghan's aggressive gaze. He even leisurely took out a slightly deformed chocolate from his pocket, unwrapped it, broke it in half, and handed it over.

"Have something to eat? You were carrying that big suitcase and I 'molested' you, you must be exhausted, right?"

Lin Qinghan did not answer.

Her eyes, hidden behind her glasses, remained fixed on Shen Jinghong, as if trying to see right through him.

"Don't interrupt."

Her voice was low, yet carried an undeniable stubbornness: "Pfizer's K-25 crystallization production line just passed clinical trials last month. Even Pentagon generals have to queue up to apply for this kind of thing. What makes you think you, an aerodynamics student, can produce a whole bottle?"

"And..." she paused, her gaze sharpening, "during the search just now, the FBI and I saw clearly that besides that pen, you didn't have a single piece of paper on you. Where did that bottle of medicine come from?"

This problem is fatal.

If the situation cannot be explained clearly, not only will the fragile trust that the two have just established collapse, but she may even mistakenly believe that he is a high-ranking agent sent by the United States to stage a self-inflicted injury.

Shen Jinghong sighed, stuffed the half-chocolate into her mouth, and chewed it with relish.

"Miss Lin, if you could dedicate half of your thirst for knowledge to enjoying life, you'd probably be married off long ago."

He swallowed the chocolate, his carefree smile vanished, and his eyes became somewhat deep, even carrying a hint of melancholy.

"If I told you that I secretly purified it myself in the MIT biochemistry lab using those discarded culture media from those Americans, would you believe me?"

Lin Qinghan was stunned.

Purify it yourself?

In a poorly equipped and strictly regulated university laboratory, could you really produce crystalline penicillin with a purity of 99% by hand? That's simply a fantasy!

But looking into Shen Jinghong's eyes, which were as dark as a deep pool, she swallowed back the rebuttal that was on the tip of her tongue.

This man could spot the most hidden algorithmic error in her notebook with just a glance; and when surrounded by agents, he was able to calmly create chaos and escape unscathed.

genius.

This is absolutely a once-in-a-lifetime genius.

If it were him... perhaps it really is possible?

"You...you really brought out such a top-secret experimental sample just to save people?"

Lin Qinghan's tone softened, and the wariness in her eyes gradually faded, replaced by a complex emotion. There was shock, there was doubt, but above all, there was a deep-seated respect.

In this era where everyone is fearful and would rather die than risk their lives for a few blueprints, some people are willing to risk their lives for a few blueprints, while others are willing to give up their priceless life-saving charms without hesitation to save a fellow countryman they have never met.

Regardless of how the medicine came about, the fact remains that Shen Jinghong just saved Professor Wang.

"A sample can be remade, but a person is gone forever."

Shen Jinghong shrugged, her tone as relaxed as if she were talking about what to eat for dinner. "Besides, that old professor from the Hua family is a national treasure. What are my skills compared to that? As long as I can bring him back safely, I'd do anything for him, even if it meant dismantling the keel of this ship to use as a crutch, let alone a bottle of penicillin."

These words, though crude, exude a heroic spirit that brings tears to one's eyes.

Lin Qinghan looked at him, and her heart skipped a beat.

She suddenly realized that this seemingly eccentric and rambling man possessed a passionate spirit that she couldn't resist. That passion was different from the cold numbers in her suitcase; it was fiery and vibrant.

"Shen Jinghong".

She pushed up her glasses, trying to hide her slightly flushed cheeks. "Although your explanation is full of holes, I'll choose to believe you for now. But... don't be so impulsive next time."

"impulse?"

Just as Shen Jinghong was about to retort with "This is called planning before acting," the loudspeaker above her head suddenly blared again.

This time, instead of the gentle announcement with its static, it was a piercing alarm.

"Waaah—waaah—"

Immediately following was the captain's shout in English, his voice distorted by extreme tension:

"Attention all passengers! Attention all passengers!"

"Urgent order from the U.S. Coast Guard! Suspected extremely dangerous contraband and espionage personnel on board! All personnel must immediately return to their cabins and open their doors for inspection!"

"I repeat! This is not a drill! This is a forced search! Anyone who resists or attempts to conceal anything will be considered a spy and arrested immediately!"

The broadcast echoed through the narrow corridor like a death knell.

The third-class cabin, which had just calmed down a little, instantly erupted into chaos. Cries, curses, and the sounds of luggage being dragged filled the air.

"Damn, they came so fast."

Lin Qinghan's expression changed, and she subconsciously wanted to rush back to her room to get the suitcase.

"Don't move!"

Shen Jinghong grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him, his brows furrowed. "Ruth is already here. If you go back to get the box now, it's like telling her, 'The stuff is here, come and grab it.'"

really.

At the end of the corridor, a series of rapid and heavy high-heeled footsteps came, accompanied by a violent kicking of the door.

"Open the door! FBI Check!"

Ruth no longer bothered to hide it. She had changed into a black, tight-fitting combat suit, carrying a Colt pistol, and was followed by four burly thugs. Her once beautiful face was now contorted with rage; there was no trace of the delicate fragility she had displayed when seeking medical help.

She wasn't searching; she was looking for someone.

She was looking for that "nerd" who had just humiliated her and whom she found extremely suspicious.

"301...No!"

"302...locked!"

Ruth stood in front of Lin Qinghan's door, sneered, and slammed the lock with the butt of her rifle. "Break this door down! That woman is definitely inside!"

"Bang! Bang!"

The loud noise caused the paint on the corridor walls to crumble.

Lin Qinghan's body was trembling. Her suitcase was still under the bed, containing national secrets, the culmination of her life's work. If Ruth were to break in…

"What should I do? My suitcase..."

She gripped Shen Jinghong's sleeve, her knuckles turning white from the force, her voice filled with undisguised despair, "We can't escape."

With Ruth in front and the exit blocked behind, they were practically trapped.

"Escape? Who said we were going to escape?"

Shen Jinghong suddenly laughed.

He turned his head and looked at Lin Qinghan, whose face was filled with terror. His expression showed no fear whatsoever, but rather a hint of excitement that Lin Qinghan couldn't understand. His eyes were like those of a mischievous child holding a lit firecracker, about to throw it into cow dung.

"Miss Lin, since they want to find contraband, let's do them a favor."

As he spoke, he pulled out several small cylinders, each about the size of a palm and tightly wrapped with black tape, from his pocket (actually from the system space).

Those were "little gadgets" he casually stole from the Lockheed factory—survival flares used by US military pilots, and a few high-explosive smoke canisters he had casually acquired during the Great Leap Forward.

"What...what are you going to do?"

Lin Qinghan's pupils contracted sharply as she looked at the dangerous little creatures.

"Prepare a little 'surprise' for these agents who have come from afar."

Shen Jinghong shoved a smoke canister into Lin Qinghan's hand, then pointed to the entrance of the ventilation duct not far away, a wicked and arrogant smile curving his lips:

"Have you heard of the Battle of Red Cliffs? Today, instead of burning the ships, we'll give them a 'fog tracking'."

"Don't worry, this is a return gift for Miss Ruth. I guarantee she'll never forget this... suffocating smell."