Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The loudspeaker of the Shenzhou Bureau has been blaring tirelessly all day.

The autumn wind was bleak, swirling withered yellow leaves across the concrete ground with a series of irritating rustling sounds. The once bustling construction site, though still busy, had lost its cheerful energy, replaced by a heavy, oppressive, and somber atmosphere.

Level 1 combat readiness.

The four bright red characters were like a branding iron, searing into everyone's hearts.

"Sizzle—sizzle—"

The shrill, grating static from the loudspeaker was followed by the announcer's suppressed anger and anxiety, echoing once more through the empty valley:

"The U.S. Tenth Corps launched a forced landing at Incheon, cutting off the retreat of the Korean People's Army..."

"The fighting is rapidly spreading northward; Pyongyang is in dire need of attention!"

"US warplanes have repeatedly crossed the border to bomb our Andong region, causing heavy casualties among innocent civilians! This is a blatant provocation! This is a serious violation of China's territorial sovereignty!"

The air in the office was so cold it felt like it was frozen.

Shen Jinghong sat behind his desk, a copy of the day's People's Daily in his hand. The front page featured the famous photograph—MacArthur, wearing sunglasses, smoking a corncob pipe, sitting in a jeep, looking as arrogant as God inspecting his own backyard.

That arrogant arrogance almost seemed to pierce through the rough ink on the paper and spray directly onto people's faces.

"Snapped!"

Chen Weiguo pushed open the door and entered, carrying two enamel teacups, but he couldn't bring himself to hand them over.

This tough guy, who kills without blinking an eye on the battlefield, now had bloodshot eyes, his cheeks were clenched so tightly they were cracking, and the veins on his neck were bulging like earthworms.

"Chief! These foreign devils are going too far!"

Chen Weiguo slammed his teacup down on the table, splashing boiling water over, but he seemed oblivious. "They've bombed right in front of our house! News just came from Dandong; several villages have been razed to the ground. The people were eating when the bombs started falling!"

"This isn't war; this is outright massacre!"

Shen Jinghong did not look up; her gaze remained fixed on MacArthur's sunglasses.

His eyes were calm.

He was as still as a bottomless ancient well; only those who knew him well knew the raging fury surging beneath that calm.

"Wei Guo, please sit."

Shen Jinghong's voice was soft, yet it carried a metallic coldness.

"Sit? How can I sit still!"

Chen Weiguo paced anxiously around the room, his leather shoes stomping loudly on the floor. "It's all over the place! They're saying the Americans are going to launch some kind of 'Christmas offensive' along the Yalu River so they can go home for the New Year! They're treating us like we don't exist!"

"Director, what exactly do you think the higher-ups mean? Are they going to attack or not? Our Shenzhou Bureau has created so many great things, are we just going to let them rust in the warehouse?"

"Fight? With what?"

In the corner, Lin Qinghan, who was organizing intelligence data, suddenly spoke up.

She looked up, her face pale, but her eyes still held a terrifying rationality. She pushed a data analysis report to the center of the table, her tone revealing a deep sense of powerlessness:

"Wei Guo, calm down. This is an asymmetric war."

"The Americans produce hundreds of times more steel than we do, they have planes like locusts, and their logistical support could bury us. And what about us?"

Lin Qinghan pointed out the window:

"Although the Shenzhou Bureau has made some progress, it's been too short a time. The nation's industrial base is too weak; most of the military is still using Type 38 rifles. If a real war breaks out..."

She didn't finish her sentence.

But everyone understands the consequences.

This was a high-stakes gamble, with the fate of this newly formed nation and the lives of hundreds of thousands of young soldiers at stake.

There's a huge uproar about it domestically right now.

Some advocated war because they couldn't swallow their pride; others advocated peace because they were genuinely afraid of squandering all the resources they had accumulated and forcing the newly established China back to the old society.

This anxiety, like a thick layer of haze, hangs over the heads of everyone in the know.

"Qinghan is right."

Shen Jinghong finally put down the newspaper in her hand.

He stood up, walked to the huge battle map, and gently traced the winding Yalu River border with his finger.

"In terms of national strength, we are indeed inferior to them by even a finger. In terms of equipment, if we remain as we were before, it would truly be suicide."

"but……"

Shen Jinghong whirled around, his finger pointing sharply at MacArthur's face on the newspaper, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips.

"That old guy is too arrogant."

"So arrogant that he forgot his own name, so arrogant that he thought the whole earth had to revolve around him."

He picked up a red pen from the table and drew a hard cross on the photo, so hard that it tore through the paper and carved into the wood underneath.

"Whom God wishes to destroy, He first makes mad."

Shen Jinghong narrowed his eyes, a wolf-like glint in them:

"Does he think we're pushovers? Does he think we're still the sick man of East Asia, at the mercy of others?"

"Fine, let him be arrogant."

"The happier he laughs now, the less he'll be able to cry in a few days!"

Chen Weiguo got goosebumps looking at his bureau chief's expression. He knew that whenever Shen Jinghong showed that kind of smile, someone was about to suffer a terrible fate.

"Chief, you mean...?"

"My meaning is very simple."

Shen Jinghong straightened her collar, turned around and walked towards the locked safe. "Our neighbor's house is on fire, and sparks have even hit our eyebrows. If we keep hiding and pretending we can't see it, the fire will eventually burn down our own house."

"But those old leaders are still hesitating..." Lin Qinghan said worriedly.

"Hesitation stems from a lack of confidence."

Shen Jinghong opened the safe and took out a heavy, black briefcase.

This bag doesn't contain money, nor does it contain ordinary blueprints.

That's all the resources that Shenzhou Bureau has accumulated over the past few months through working day and night and frantically ramping up production!

It includes deployment data for the Type 56 assault rifle, production capacity reports for the 155mm howitzer, flight test parameters for the improved F-86, and a mountain of special steel inventory lists.

That's the source of their confidence.

This is the iron fist that can stand tall and challenge the world's number one superpower!

"Ring ring—!!!"

Just then, the red secure telephone on the table, which connects directly to Zhongnanhai, seemed to sense the murderous aura here and suddenly rang.

Urgent, sharp, each sound a death knell.

The three people inside the room were startled at the same time.

Shen Jinghong took a deep breath, strode over, grabbed the receiver, and moved with steady and powerful movements.

"I am Shen Jinghong."

A dignified and deep voice came from the other end of the phone. Even through the electrical current, the overwhelming sense of urgency was palpable:

"Comrade Jinghong, I am Nie Rongzhen."

"Put down everything you're doing right now, bring all your documents, and come to Zhongnanhai immediately!"

"The Chairman and the Generalissimo are both here; the Supreme Military Conference will be convened immediately."

"Regarding the issue of sending troops... the decision needs to be made tonight!"

"yes!"

Shen Jinghong answered loudly, his voice showing no sign of tension, only the excitement of a soldier about to go to the battlefield.

"Snapped!"

hang up the phone.

Shen Jinghong picked up the black briefcase and patted off non-existent dust.

He glanced around the warm, lived-in office, then looked at Lin Qinghan and Chen Weiguo, a bright and confident smile spreading across his face:

"Did you hear that?"

"The nation is calling us, and history awaits us."

"Walk!"

Shen Jinghong donned his military overcoat and strode out, the hem of the coat billowing behind him, stirring up a gust of cold wind.

"Go to Zhongnanhai!"

"Let's go and cheer on the leaders!"

"Tell them that we not only dare to fight this battle, but also—"

He pushed open the door, facing the biting wind outside, and forced out four words through gritted teeth:

"Victory is assured!"