Among the Five Golden Hairpins, aside from Qiqi, the other three victims all had very average reputations.
Relying on the fact that business was good and that they were good-looking, they often looked down on others.
After they died, hardly anyone commemorated them.
Some people even felt a bit of schadenfreude.
After circling around for clues, Jiang Han felt her head grow heavy and muddled.
If it were about taking action, she had no problem with that.
But processing such a huge amount of information at once—using her brain like this—she really wasn't cut out for it.
She looked at Ma Jun, who seemed deep in thought, unable to suppress her curiosity.
Carefully, she asked,
"Ma Jun… have you discovered anything?"
Ma Jun tilted his head slightly, his eyes bright.
"Of course."
Jiang Han grew even more curious.
"What did you find? Can you tell me?"
"Hm," Ma Jun said. "I found that quite a few of the girls here are very well-endowed—but unfortunately, about half of them are padded. Didn't expect cosmetic technology to be this widespread nowadays."
Jiang Han: "..."
She stared at him speechlessly.
The image she had of Ma Jun in her heart cracked just a little.
"Heh, just kidding," Ma Jun chuckled.
"Let's talk about something serious."
His tone turned more earnest.
"Did you notice that the three victims all had one thing in common before they died?"
"A common point?" Jiang Han was confused.
"What common point?"
She had listened very carefully earlier. Before their deaths, the victims simply opened shop every day and did business.
Their business was good—on busy days, they might even receive twenty or thirty clients.
Aside from that, there was nothing else.
"Could it be… too many clients?" she ventured.
"Exactly," Ma Jun nodded in approval.
Jiang Han's mouth fell open slightly as she asked instinctively,
"That counts?"
"Let's go. I'll explain as we walk."
Ma Jun started forward, and Jiang Han hurried to follow.
His speaking pace was steady, neither fast nor slow.
"For top-tier girls like them, their rates are much higher than ordinary hostesses."
"Most people charge around three hundred dollars. Slightly better ones—like those with a 'snake waist' or a 'cherry mouth'—can charge six hundred."
"But girls like them can push their price to around a thousand."
"The ones who come to them are usually fairly wealthy clients."
"The scale of such wealthy clients isn't actually large. Most of them are regulars with fixed patrons."
"So their daily number of clients wouldn't be too many, nor too few."
"In that case, having their client count suddenly spike right before their deaths—that's a huge red flag."
After listening to Ma Jun's analysis, Jiang Han was completely stunned.
Her mouth hung slightly open, feeling as if she were listening to some heavenly scripture.
Terms like "snake waist" and "cherry mouth" were complete mysteries to her.
This really didn't feel like something a girl in her bloom should be hearing.
"Wait—" Jiang Han said, her face full of shock.
"How are you so familiar with all this?!"
"You even know the prices?!"
"You didn't actually come here before, did you?!"
"Of course not!" Ma Jun shook his head decisively.
"How could you say that about a high school student in the prime of his youth?"
Jiang Han narrowed her eyes.
Judging by how smoothly he'd interacted with those hostesses earlier, he looked nothing like a high school student.
"Alright. This is the place."
Ma Jun suddenly stopped in front of a door.
Outside the wooden door was another layer—a metal security gate.
Beside it hung a plaque with the room number written on it.
B31.
"Where is this?" Jiang Han asked instinctively.
"The room of the first victim," Ma Jun replied.
"Qiqi's room."
"How do you know she lived here?"
"I asked earlier. Didn't you hear?"
Jiang Han suddenly felt that Ma Jun's memory was on a completely different level from hers.
Strong was one thing—but even his brain worked this well.
Knock, knock, knock.
Ma Jun rapped on the door.
"Who is it?"
The voice from inside was unfriendly, tinged with irritation.
"Police. Open the door!"
Ma Jun was even less polite.
With a creak, the door was pulled open.
A face appeared—long hair, looking extremely disheveled.
The eyes beneath the hair were dull and lifeless.
A thin, sallow man.
He raised his head, his pale face facing the badge Ma Jun had lifted.
A flicker of an indescribable expression passed across his face.
"Officer… what do you want with me?"
"Everything here is legal. I just played around a bit—you're not here to arrest me, right?"
Ma Jun revealed a faint smile. His tone was calm, yet carried an inexplicable pressure.
"I ask. You answer."
"If there's a single word of nonsense, I'll take you back for tea."
The man froze for a moment, then muttered irritably,
"Fine, say it then. What are you being fierce for?"
"This room—are you renting it?"
"Yeah," the man nodded.
"How long have you rented it?"
"About half a year."
"Half a year?" Ma Jun locked eyes with him.
"If I remember correctly, someone died here half a year ago, didn't they?"
"You really like living in a murder house?"
The man curled his lips.
"Officer, have you never rented a place before?"
"It's cheap here. What's so scary about a murder house?"
"Hong Kong's so big—what house hasn't had someone die in it?"
"And besides, I heard the one who died here before was a real beauty."
"Even if she comes back looking for me, worst case I'll die under the peony flowers."
The man broke into a dazed, lecherous grin.
That kind of vulgar expression made Jiang Han frown deeply.
She really wanted to go up and whip him with an Eight Extremes strike.
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