Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The dried jasmine petal lay quietly on the black desk.

Although it had lost its moisture and the edges were slightly yellow, the faint fragrance seemed to possess a tenacious vitality, stubbornly penetrating Shen Jinghong's nasal cavity.

Shen Jinghong held the letter in her hand.

There were no lengthy treatises, no grand pronouncements about national affairs, and not even a signature on the paper.

Only one line of delicate small regular script, the ink seeping through the paper:

**[The flowers are blooming along the path; you may slowly return home.]**

This is a letter written by the King of Wuyue to his wife.

The flowers are in bloom along the paths in the fields; you can enjoy them as you slowly make your way back.

Shen Jinghong was stunned.

He was an engineer, his mind filled with fluid mechanics and ballistic formulas. But at this moment, those nine words were like the gentlest bullet, piercing through his armor forged of steel and data without any resistance.

"This wasn't mailed."

Shen Jinghong suddenly raised her head and looked intently at Lin Qinghan sitting opposite her.

Lin Qinghan did not look up.

She was still organizing the pile of documents about the aerodynamic layout of the "Dongfeng-1" missile, but the knuckles of her hand holding the pen were slightly white, and the blush at the base of her ears completely betrayed the turmoil in her heart at that moment.

"You put this here."

Shen Jinghong's voice was a little hoarse; it wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I just feel that our director has been too stressed lately."

Lin Qinghan pushed up her glasses and finally looked up. Her usually cold eyes now held a tender light that sent shivers down one's spine.

"The American bounty is up there, and spies from all over the world are watching. You're working day and night in the lab and workshop, getting less than three hours of sleep a day."

She pointed to the petal, her voice soft:

"I found this flower under the grape trellis in our courtyard that you cut down. I thought to myself, when you come back, I must take you to see it again."

"Although the grape trellis is gone now, and the flowers have withered."

"But the person is still alive."

Looking at Shen Jinghong's bloodshot eyes, Lin Qinghan's voice betrayed an undisguised heartache:

"Shen Jinghong, the war is never over, and the work is never finished."

"The flowers are blooming along the path; you may slowly return home."

"It means...slow down."

"Don't push yourself too hard. I'm right here, the country is right here, we're all waiting for you."

Shen Jinghong felt as if there was a wad of cotton stuck in her throat.

It was sour and bloated, yet so warm it brought tears to my eyes.

Is this the romance of a female STEM student?

Subtle and understated, yet it strikes straight to the soul.

She didn't say "I'm worried about you," nor did she say "I love you."

She simply used an ancient poem to tell him: no matter how big the storms outside, no matter how terrifying the bounty is, there will always be someone here who is willing to walk slowly with him and watch the flowers bloom and fade with him.

"So cold and desolate..."

Shen Jinghong stood up, walked around the desk, and stood in front of her.

He reached out, wanting to take her hand.

"Bang!"

Just when the atmosphere was just right and sparks were about to fly...

The office door was once again pushed open mercilessly.

"A stunning sight! That missile..."

Marshal Nie Rongzhen strode in, carrying a document in his hand.

As soon as he entered, he saw Shen Jinghong standing in front of Lin Qinghan, her hand half outstretched, in an extremely awkward posture.

And then there's Lin Qinghan, her face as red as a ripe apple, frantically lowering her head as if pretending to look at a document.

The air suddenly fell silent for three seconds.

"Ahem!"

Marshal Nie, being an experienced man, understood the "battle situation" inside the room at a glance.

A meaningful smile instantly appeared on his serious face. His eyes swept back and forth between the two of them before finally landing on the dried jasmine petal on the table.

"Looks like... I've come at the wrong time?"

Marshal Nie asked with a smile, his hands behind his back.

"No! Commander, you've arrived just in time!"

Shen Jinghong recoiled as if electrocuted, stood at attention, and even though his skin was as thick as a city wall, he was now unusually embarrassed. "We...we were discussing...that..."

"Alright, stop making things up."

Marshal Nie waved his hand, interrupting his nonsense.

He walked up to Shen Jinghong, his smile fading, and looked the young and capable subordinate up and down.

Thin.

blacken.

His eyes were sunken, and his stubble wasn't cleanly shaved.

In the past few months, Shen Jinghong has been like a tireless perpetual motion machine, dragging the Shenzhou Bureau, a large ship, through turbulent waves.

"Jinghong, Comrade Qinghan is right."

Marshal Nie sighed, his tone full of elder's concern:

"A string stretched too tight will break. You are our national treasure. If I wear you out, I won't be able to answer to the central government or the people of the whole country."

He turned around and glanced out the window at the bright, sunny winter afternoon.

"The weather is nice today."

Marshal Nie suddenly changed the subject, his face revealing the authoritative look one would have when issuing a battle order:

"Shen Jinghong, listen to my command!"

"arrive!"

Shen Jinghong subconsciously straightened her back.

"I order you to immediately stop all work!"

Marshal Nie pointed to the door, his tone leaving no room for argument:

"I'm giving you a day off! Twenty-four hours! Not a minute less!"

"There's only one task: Go take a shower, change into clean clothes, and then take Comrade Lin Qinghan for a stroll in Beihai Park!"

"This is a political task! It must be completed!"

Shen Jinghong was stunned.

Lin Qinghan was also stunned.

A stroll in the park? A political mission?

"Sir, this...this isn't appropriate, is it?" Shen Jinghong smiled wryly. "The F-86's improvements are still at a critical stage, and there's also that..."

"There's nothing inappropriate about it!"

Marshal Nie glared, feigning anger:

"The earth will stop spinning without you? All those old experts are still here; the sky won't fall!"

"Besides, finding a partner is part of the revolutionary work! You two are not getting any younger, how can you stay cooped up in the lab all day?"

"Go! Go now!"

Marshal Nie waved his hand, shooing the two men towards the door. "Chen Weiguo! Prepare the car! Bring that Hongqi car over! No one is allowed to disturb them today!"

Outside the door, Chen Weiguo poked his head out, grinning from ear to ear:

"Yes, sir! The car is ready! I even had two pounds of oranges put in the trunk!"

Shen Jinghong watched helplessly as her superior and subordinate clashed, and finally could only turn to look at Lin Qinghan.

Lin Qinghan had already tidied up the documents on the table. She stood up, pushed up her glasses, and although her face was still red, there was an undisguised smile in her eyes and brows.

"Director Shen, since it's the commander's order... then we have no choice but to carry it out."

"Alright."

Shen Jinghong shrugged, and that long-lost sense of ease finally returned to him.

"Then... I shall respectfully comply."

Half an hour later.

Downstairs in the staff quarters of Shenzhou Bureau.

Shen Jinghong took off the blue overalls that always smelled of engine oil.

He pulled out the gray trench coat he wore when he returned to China. Although it was a bit old, it was neatly ironed. The white shirt underneath had a crisp collar, and his gold-rimmed glasses were polished to a shine.

He transformed back into that refined and scholarly "returned scholar" who had just come from the banks of the Hudson River.

He stood by the old locust tree downstairs, hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing at the time on his wrist.

The winter sun shone through the branches, casting dappled shadows on him.

The passing workers and their families all turned to look, their eyes filled with curiosity and amazement. The usually decisive and ruthless Director Shen was now acting like a lovesick young man, waiting for someone here?

"Professor Shen, who are you waiting for?" an old professor passing by joked with a smile.

"Waiting for someone."

Shen Jinghong smiled, but her gaze never left the entrance of that building.

"Waiting for someone... who is more important than the F-86 blueprints."

The voice just fell.

The building entrance door opened.

Shen Jinghong's eyes suddenly lit up.

Lin Qinghan came out.

She wasn't wearing a military uniform, nor was she wearing that solemn Lenin suit.

She wore a beige cashmere coat and a red scarf, and her hair, no longer neatly styled, was casually draped over her shoulders.

The sunlight shone on her face, making her skin appear as white as snow, adding a touch of gentleness and charm to her cool and aloof demeanor, like that of a girl next door.

She stood on the steps, looking at Shen Jinghong under the tree, a faint yet beautiful smile appearing on her lips.

"Mr. Shen, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Shen Jinghong took a deep breath and went to meet him.

"soon."

He reached out and took the bag from her hand with perfect ease, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze:

"I've waited two lifetimes for this day."

"Let's go, Miss Lin."

"Let's go report this special 'political mission' to Marshal Nie."