Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The deepest, most secret core compartment of the Shennong Laboratory.

The blast door was locked tight, keeping even Chen Weiguo out.

Shen Jinghong held two glass test tubes that shimmered with a dazzling golden light in her hand. The liquid was even thicker than the medicine that had cured Lin Qinghan's cancer, and it reflected a mesmerizing color under the operating lights.

"Qinghan, those foreign devils outside think that conquering cancer is the end of medicine." Shen Jinghong's lips curled into an arrogant smile as he handed one of the test tubes to his wife. "They have no idea that eliminating cancer cells is just the most basic byproduct of this nanorobot system."

Lin Qinghan took the test tube, a hint of doubt flashing in her cool eyes.

"So what is its main business?"

"Repairs telomerase, reverses cellular aging." Shen Jinghong uttered this answer, word by word, enough to drive all of humanity mad. "In layman's terms, this stuff is called gene repair fluid. It can make people young again."

Lin Qinghan's hand trembled violently, almost dropping the test tube on the ground.

Rejuvenation? This is something Qin Shi Huang searched for his entire life but never found!

"Drink it." Without hesitation, Shen Jinghong tilted her head back and drank the golden liquid in the test tube in one gulp.

Lin Qinghan looked at her husband and drank it down without hesitation.

The liquid entered my throat, not with the expected bitterness, but rather like a warm flame that instantly slid down my esophagus into my stomach. Then, this flame exploded, transforming into countless streams of scalding heat that surged wildly through my limbs and bones!

"Uh..." Shen Jinghong groaned, gripping the edge of the lab table tightly.

He could clearly feel millions of aging cells in his body being forcibly torn apart and reorganized. The tingling and burning sensation that penetrated deep into his bones was even more intense than when he was in a centrifuge with an overload of eight Gs.

Lin Qinghan also closed her eyes in pain, her whole body soaked in sweat.

This transformative change lasted for a full half hour.

When the burning sensation finally subsided like a receding tide, Shen Jinghong opened his eyes, panting heavily. He instinctively looked at Lin Qinghan opposite him, and froze instantly.

The wrinkles that had previously etched themselves around his eyes from overwork had vanished completely. His once glaring white hair had now turned a glossy black from root to tip!

Her skin was firm and fair, with a dewy glow that only young girls possess.

Where is this the intelligence chief who is nearly sixty years old? This is clearly the same aloof, stunningly beautiful, and brilliant young woman in her twenties who was on the USS President Wilson back then!

"Jinghong...your hair..." Lin Qinghan covered her mouth, looking at Shen Jinghong in disbelief.

Shen Jinghong suddenly turned her head to look at the mirror on the wall.

The old man with a full head of white hair and a weathered face in the mirror was gone. In his place was a handsome man with sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, a tall and straight figure, and exuding the peak masculine hormones of a man in his thirties!

He really tore up the Book of Life and Death of the King of Hell!

"Bang!"

The laboratory door was pushed open.

Chen Weiguo, who was pacing anxiously outside the door, was about to ask a question when he looked up and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Chief...Chief?! Sister-in-law?!" Chen Weiguo was so frightened that he fell to the ground, looking as if he had seen a ghost. "You've been drained of your yang energy by a monster...No! You've eaten Tang Sanzang's flesh?!"

"Shut your jinx." Shen Jinghong walked over and kicked him, the force of which sent Chen Weiguo flying half a meter away.

Feeling the seemingly inexhaustible surge of power within him, Shen Jinghong clenched his fist in satisfaction.

"Wei Guo, go and retrieve the remaining ten vials of gene repair fluid from the cold storage." Shen Jinghong's jokes vanished, and his eyes instantly became extremely solemn and dignified.

"Director, this is priceless! Those Western tycoons outside are offering a hundred billion US dollars for a single injection!" Chen Weiguo swallowed hard.

"A hundred billion? Even if you gave me the entire Wall Street, they wouldn't get a drop!"

Shen Jinghong sneered, his tone exuding an air of domineering arrogance.

"This thing is a national treasure of our China. Those foreign devils want to live forever and continue sucking the blood of the whole world? Keep dreaming!"

He turned to look at Lin Qinghan, his eyes filled with deep respect.

"Qinghan, we are where we are today not because of me alone. It is because of Qian Zhongshu and Deng Xiaoping, who ate sand and calculated data in the Gobi Desert, and it is because of Marshal Nie and others who supported us under tremendous pressure."

"They have devoted themselves to this country, their hair has turned white, and they have suffered from various illnesses."

Shen Jinghong took a deep breath, her voice resounding: "The King of Hell wants to take them? I, Shen Jinghong, will be the first to object! I will make them witness this prosperous era, witness our vast universe!"

That night, several Hongqi sedans with special license plates secretly drove out of the Shenzhou Bureau.

In the VIP ward of Beijing 301 Hospital.

Mr. Qian, who was already terminally ill and had difficulty breathing, was lying in a coma on his hospital bed.

Shen Jinghong personally went to the bedside and slowly pushed the golden-glowing medicine into the vein of this scientific giant.

The same scene played out repeatedly in Marshal Nie's sanatorium and in Deng Xiaoping's hospital room.

This is a deception that defies fate and changes destiny.

half a month later.

The Great Hall of the People, the award ceremony for the State's highest science and technology award.

Hundreds of media outlets from around the world had set up their cameras and microphones at the back of the venue well in advance. Western journalists whispered among themselves, their eyes revealing undisguised probing and malice.

"I heard that several of China's veteran scientists are failing and will probably have to come out in wheelchairs today."

"Once these old guard members die, China's deterrent power in cutting-edge technology will be greatly diminished. This is a golden opportunity for us in the West to regain the initiative!"

A CIA agent mingled among the reporters, coldly pressing the shutter button to record this "sunset" moment.

"Now, please welcome the award winners to the stage!"

As the host's voice faded, the mahogany doors on the side of the Great Hall of the People slowly opened.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

There were no wheelchairs, no canes, and no elderly people needing assistance.

Marshal Nie Rongzhen, dressed in a crisp marshal's uniform, strode confidently at the front. His once hunched back was now ramrod straight, and his once full head of silver hair had miraculously turned into a short, jet-black buzz cut! His sharp eyes gleamed with a fierce light, and his gait was powerful and energetic; he hardly looked like a man nearing ninety. He was clearly a vigorous general in his forties!

Following behind him were Mr. Qian and Mr. Deng, both with full heads of black hair and ruddy complexions. They walked briskly onto the stage, even joking with each other, their laughter so loud it almost shattered the microphone.

"My God..."

The Western journalists in the audience were collectively petrified.

The camera in my hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," and my chin shattered into pieces.

"This is impossible! I just received intelligence last month that they were critically ill! What on earth is going on?!" The CIA agent trembled with fear, feeling as if his worldview was being crushed by a heavy tank.

"Rejuvenation! The Chinese have mastered the magic of rejuvenation!"

"They not only conquered cancer, they also defeated death!"

The world's values ​​collapsed completely at that moment.

Western politicians, watching the vibrant and energetic Chinese leaders on live television, slumped into their chairs in despair.

They had originally hoped to outlive these founding fathers so they could take advantage of the situation and make some underhanded moves. But now? They've practically returned to their peak condition at thirty!

What does this mean?

This means that these Eastern dragons, possessing terrifying intelligence and ruthless methods, can rule the world for another half a century!

What's the point of playing this game?! Let's just surrender!

Office of the Director of the China Bureau.

The television was broadcasting the awards ceremony.

Shen Jinghong stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror, looking at her younger self in the mirror, with sword-like eyebrows, bright eyes, and surging blood.

He straightened his shirt collar, a wicked smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Lin Qinghan walked over with two glasses of red wine and handed him one. Her stunningly beautiful face, now restored to its youthful state, radiated undisguised pride and happiness.

"Jinghong, look at the expressions on those foreign reporters' faces, they look like they've seen a ghost." Lin Qinghan chuckled and clinked glasses with Shen Jinghong.

"Ghosts? They'll be seeing ghosts for a long time to come."

Shen Jinghong drank it all in one gulp and casually placed the glass on the table.

He turned around and pulled the equally youthful, beautiful, and alluring Lin Qinghan into a tight embrace.

Feeling his wife's vibrant heartbeat, Shen Jinghong lowered his head and whispered in her ear, his voice filled with a domineering and affectionate tone that seemed to sweep across the stars.

"Wife, it looks like we'll have to work for another five hundred years."