Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The scalding hot tea dripped down the edge of the table, landing on Nie Rongzhen's old cloth shoes with their thousand-layer soles, quickly soaking a large area.

But this founding father, who remained unmoved even when Mount Tai collapsed before him, seemed to have lost all sense of pain at this moment.

He stood frozen like a petrified sculpture, stiffly maintaining his half-rising posture. His eyes, slightly clouded from years of hard work, were fixed intently on the thin sheet of paper. His knuckles, from excessive force, turned a chilling bluish-white, as if he were holding not just a piece of paper, but the very lifeline of the new China.

"F-86... Sabre?"

Marshal Nie's voice was dry and hoarse, as if it were being forced out from the depths of his chest, "Jinghong, do you know what this is? This is the main force of the US military! It's their trump card for dominating the skies! You...you brought it back?"

"Not just airplanes, sir."

Shen Jinghong took out a handkerchief from her pocket and went over to help Nie Shuai wipe the table, but Nie Shuai pushed her away.

"Never mind the table! Tell me! Is what's written on this real? A complete production line? Even the screws are included?"

Marshal Nie gripped Shen Jinghong's wrist with astonishing strength, his eyes flashing with an almost frantic longing—the ecstatic joy of rain after a long drought, and the fear that it was all just a beautiful dream.

"It's true."

Shen Jinghong let him hold her, her expression calm, but her tone was as heavy as Mount Tai, "The production line is real, the engine is real, and even the more than 1,000 tons of special aluminum alloy plates are real."

"This is only the first page."

He reached out and gently helped Marshal Nie turn to the second page.

Marshal Nie's gaze followed the movement downwards, and his breath caught in his throat.

**[Oak Ridge K-25 gas diffusion centrifuge units (3000 units), enriched uranium raw materials (5 tons), complete set of Manhattan Project theoretical manuscripts...]**

Next, continue.

**[Federal Reserve's gold reserves (2000 tons), cash (US$5 million)...]**

**[Columbia University, MIT core journals across all disciplines and experimental data (approximately 50 issues)...]**

"Huff... huff..."

As Nie Shuai watched, he suddenly began to gasp for breath, his chest heaving violently. He had to support himself on the table with one hand to barely keep his balance.

That's terrifying.

This isn't just "local specialties"; it's like they've completely emptied the guts of the US! Every single item on this list is enough to shake the world and drive Western politicians crazy!

"How...how did you do that?"

Marshal Nie raised his head, looking at the excessively young scholar before him with a complex expression. "So much stuff, even ten 10,000-ton ships couldn't hold it all! Is the FBI blind? Is customs just for show?"

"Sir, this involves my area of ​​expertise."

Shen Jinghong smiled mysteriously, without offering much explanation, "You can think of it as a special... spatial folding technology. This is also my biggest research achievement in the United States, but it is still in the classified stage and can only be operated by me alone."

Spatial folding?

This sounds like a myth.

But seeing Shen Jinghong's determined gaze, Marshal Nie took a deep breath and made a decision.

"Let's go! To the warehouse!"

He snatched the list, stuffed it into his inner pocket, buttoned his top button, and strode out. "Seeing is believing. Jinghong, if you can really conjure this thing up, I, Nie Rongzhen, will personally lead your horse and put it in the stirrups!"

……

In the western suburbs, there is a heavily guarded, top-secret empty warehouse.

The massive iron gate slammed shut, completely cutting off sunlight and visibility. Only Marshal Nie and Shen Jinghong remained in the empty warehouse; even the guards were left outside.

The air was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat.

"Commander, hold on tight."

Shen Jinghong walked to the center of the warehouse, glanced back at Nie Shuai who looked nervous, and a confident smile appeared on her lips.

He slowly raised his right hand, palm up, and gently clenched it in the air.

"Come out, big guy!"

hum-

An invisible wave instantly swept through the entire space. The air seemed to turn into water, rippling in circles visible to the naked eye.

Immediately afterwards, a huge shadow appeared out of nowhere, accompanied by the heavy sound of metal hitting the ground.

"boom!"

The ground shook violently, sending dust flying everywhere.

As the dust settled, a silver-white steel behemoth lay silently on the concrete ground. Its streamlined fuselage gleamed with a cold metallic sheen, the air intakes under the wings resembled a gaping maw ready to devour its prey, and the conspicuous "US AIR FORCE" logo on the tail fin was jarring to the eye.

F-86, "Sabre".

The ruler of the skies in this era appeared abruptly and without warning in Beijing's warehouse.

Behind it are rows of neat crates containing precision machine tools and centrifuges that countless engineers dream of.

"This...this..."

Marshal Nie completely lost his composure.

He walked over shakily, reaching out his rough, calloused hand to stroke the cold fuselage. The realistic touch, the unique texture of the metal, instantly brought tears to his eyes.

"It's true...it really is true..."

This tough man, who sheds blood but not tears on the battlefield, was now like a child, hugging the landing gear of the plane, tears streaming down his face.

With this, our pilots won't have to risk their lives flying those beat-up "international" planes.

With this, we can stand up straight!

"A stunning sight indeed..."

Marshal Nie suddenly turned around, hugged Shen Jinghong tightly, and patted his back forcefully, his voice choked with emotion:

"You've done a tremendous service! A truly monumental achievement! You didn't just bring back data; you brought back thirty years of national destiny for our country!"

"One person is worth ten divisions? No! More than a hundred divisions!"

Shen Jinghong was a little breathless from being choked, but her heart felt warm.

He knew that this was not only an affirmation of him personally, but also an expectation for the country's impending take-off.

"Sir, this is just the beginning."

Shen Jinghong gently patted Marshal Nie's back, her eyes resolute. "In the future, we will have more advanced aircraft and more powerful missiles. We will let those foreign devils who look down on us know that China is not to be trifled with."

"Good! Good! Good!"

Marshal Nie said "good" three times in a row, wiped away the tears on his face, and his expression instantly became extremely serious.

"Pass on my order! From this moment forward, this area is a top-level restricted zone! Send over a full guard division! Not a single fly is allowed in!"

He stared intently at Shen Jinghong, his tone solemn:

"Jinghong, your safety is now a top state secret. From today onwards, you are a first-class protected individual. Anyone who wants to harm you will have to step over my dead body first!"

"By the way, where do you live? You can't live in that shabby courtyard house anymore, it's not safe! Move into the main compound immediately, I'll have someone vacate the best apartment for you!"

Seeing Nie Shuai's posture as if he were facing a formidable enemy and wished he could tuck him into his pocket to protect him, Shen Jinghong felt a warmth in his heart, but he smiled and waved his hand.

"Sir, moving is a certainty. However..."

He pushed up his glasses, and his expression suddenly became somewhat playful, revealing a hint of cunning:

"Before moving into the compound, I still had some personal matters to take care of."

"Personal matters? What personal matters are more important than your safety?" Marshal Nie was taken aback.

"Family matters."

Shen Jinghong turned her head to look in the direction of the warehouse gate, her gaze seemingly piercing through the thick iron wall and landing on the courtyard house in Nanluoguxiang.

"Some accounts need to be settled. Some people need to be dealt with cleanly. Otherwise, I won't feel at ease going to serve my country with all these merits."

He straightened his collar, saluted Marshal Nie, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his lips:

"Sir, could you lend me a few trucks? I'd like to move my 'relatives' tonight."