You're supposed to be a security officer, what case are you solving?

Chapter 139 The Hair Washer!
Annan City.

The train station was deserted late at night, and the huge square was almost empty.

Across the street was a row of hotels and guesthouses, their signs hanging there, white and brittle from the summer sun.

If it weren't for the rotating light boxes of several hair salons, the signs wouldn't be visible at all.

The hair salon was filled with women washing hair. They sat on sofas or chairs, smoking and chatting. When someone passed by, they would immediately push open the glass door and call out, "Hey buddy, want a hair wash? I'm a great stylist, I guarantee you'll be comfortable."

Zhao Changjun was just a passerby. At this moment, he was walking by, carrying a black handbag under his arm and wearing a wool coat.

Generally speaking, people wandering around the area are either those whose trains have just arrived and who live far from home and are looking for a hotel to stay overnight, or those who need to catch a train the next day and are staying overnight in advance.

But Zhao Changjun is not one of those two types of people; he is a third type. He came here entirely for "third kind of contact," which means paying money to sell sex.

A person in their forties who has worked diligently and conscientiously all their life for their work, family, and children.

He works at the power supply station as a section chief, has a good salary, and doesn't have many worries.

The only regret is that life is too bland, so bland it's practically nonexistent, and it's utterly meaningless.

In short, he just wanted to wash his hair, which meant he wanted to have some fun and find some excitement.

His good buddies often come over in groups of three or five, but he always feels embarrassed to go with them. Firstly, he's too shy, and secondly, because he's a level above them in rank, he doesn't want to go with them. What if they find something on him and expose it at work? That would be the end of him.
But he longed for what his good friend had said: to regain his former glory and feel like he was eighteen again.

Sleeping with my wife every day, touching her hand feels no different than touching my own; I have absolutely no interest in it.

Zhao Changjun was very annoyed that his wife never closed the door when she went to the toilet or took a dump.

Moreover, every time he's with his wife, he's absent-minded and can even conjure up an electrical engineering algorithm formula in his mind. Isn't that ridiculous?

He used to use this trick because he was afraid of cutting off the power too early and leaving his wife unsatisfied.

Now, when he and his wife are doing this, his mind involuntarily conjures up algorithms and formulas for electrical engineering, and the thought of it immediately makes him lose control.

Every time this happens, his wife will push him away forcefully: "Old Zhao, are you a candle? You go out as soon as you light it up?!"

We're only in our forties, how are we going to live from now on? You want me to live like a widow?

If you weren't so honest, I'd suspect you were seeing someone else. If all else fails, drink a cup of the medicinal wine I made for you before you do it, and don't act like a dead dog!

Zhao Changjun felt speechless when he thought about this.

He wanted to test whether he was only uninterested in his wife or the same way with other women.
The young woman in the hair salon had wavy hair, purple eyeshadow, wore leopard print clothing, and a leather skirt; she was very alluring.

Zhao Changjun's eyes lit up, he swallowed hard, and asked in a low voice, "How much does it cost?"

The shampoo girl, with one hand on the glass door and chewing gum, replied, "Big brother, it depends on what kind of project you're looking for; we have everything here."

Zhao Changjun glanced into the hair salon, where neon lights illuminated the scene and girls sat on red sofas, looking up at him.

Zhao Changjun shrank back: "Can we get out? Let's find a hotel?"

"Sure, but it's a bit pricey. Is that acceptable?"

"no problem."

The woman washing hair said again, "Let's stay on this street, we can't go any further."

"can."

The woman washing hair closed the door, went inside, and said to a plump woman sitting behind the counter, "Sister Wan, I'm going out."

The fat woman raised her head and sized up Zhao Changjun, who was standing outside.

"Fangfang, don't go too far. If he doesn't pay, come and call me, and I'll have someone teach him a lesson."

"I know."

Fangfang nodded, took the red handbag hanging on the wall, slung it over her shoulder, and prepared to go out.

The sisters sitting on the sofa teased, "Fangfang, if you don't have enough fun, you can call me. I can do that too."

"Fangfang, you're the only one opening today. It's so cold today, damn it, nobody's coming in."

Fangfang replied, "It's too cold. Everyone's frozen stiff."

Everyone burst into laughter.

She pushed open the door and called out again, "I'm leaving now, I'll come back later and bring you some lamb skewers."

Zhao Changjun stood outside the door and took a few steps forward. Fangfang ran up to him and forcefully put her hand into his arm.

"Big Brother, you're in business, aren't you? You've got the air of a boss."

In the 1990s, "boss" was a positive term, and people felt comfortable being called "boss."

Zhao Changjun was no exception. Moreover, this woman smelled nice, was not very old, only in her early twenties, had good skin, and a very delicate face.

Upon seeing her lips painted with lipstick, Zhao Changjun immediately reacted.

Sure enough, it wasn't my fault. My good buddies were right; this really does make you feel like you're eighteen again.

Eighteen years old! Zhao Changjun felt a surge of excitement.

After walking about twenty meters along the street, Fangfang looked at the hotel next door and said, "Boss, let's go with this one."

Zhao Changjun immediately shook his head: "This place is not good, let's look again."

"Okay, I'll listen to you," Fangfang said, not annoyed.

Zhao Changjun wanted to find an inconspicuous place to avoid running into acquaintances, which would be embarrassing.

To ease the tension, he asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Fangfang laughed and said, "Of course not, can you tell where I'm from?"

"From Lingmeng County?" "You guessed right, I'm from Lingmeng County."

Fangfang smiled on the outside, but cursed inwardly, "How could you not tell that I have such a heavy accent?"
After walking a few steps, Fangfang found another hotel, but Zhao Changjun disagreed, feeling it was still too conspicuous.

Fangfang stood still, staring at him warily: "No, Daguo, what are you doing? It's just finding a bed, why are you being so picky? What exactly do you want?"

Zhao Changjun immediately said, "Let's walk a little further, the next one, the next one will do."

Fangfang glanced back; the neon lights of the hair salon were particularly eye-catching in the night.

"Okay, next one then."

Zhao Changjun nodded hurriedly, and Fangfang took his arm again.

It was already 11 p.m., and there was no one around.

After walking for a few minutes and turning a corner, a rather deserted street came into view.

Right next to it, there is a sign for the Dongfeng Guesthouse.

This is a standalone two-story building. There are no other buildings on either side; it's all wasteland, but it's planned to be developed into a new commercial building.

It's over 500 meters away from the hair salon. Fangfang said, "Is this the only one left?"

"Okay." Zhao Changjun pushed open the door and went in. The lobby was dimly lit.

A man stood behind the counter, staring at the keyboard on the wall, which held a dozen or so room keys.

"Rent a room," Zhao Changjun said.

The boss turned around and stared at him: "How long are you staying?"

"one night."

"ID card." The shopkeeper took out a registration book from under the counter and handed it to him: "ID card number. If you don't have an ID card, a temporary residence permit will do. Write your name down."

Zhao Changjun nodded and, while starting the registration process, asked, "Does the room have a shower?"

"No." The boss glanced at Fangfang and immediately understood what the two people were there for, and smiled.

"Alright, how much?" Zhao Changjun put down his pen.

"Single room: 35 yuan; Double room: 58 yuan."

Zhao Changjun nodded, took out his briefcase from under his arm, unzipped it, and handed him one hundred yuan.

After giving him change, the shopkeeper took a key from the wall and handed it to him: "202, do you want me to take you upstairs? Or will you go up by yourselves?"

“No need, we’ll go up ourselves,” Fangfang said immediately.

"Okay, the stairs are on the right, behind the curtain." The boss sat down in his chair and stopped greeting them.

Zhao Changjun nodded, his mind filled with thoughts of what was about to happen.

The algorithm formula for that electrical engineering problem was not even in his mind.

The shampoo girl next to him was different. Fangfang always felt something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

After going upstairs, there is a long corridor with green paint on the walls. When you open the door to room 202 and turn on the light, the walls of the room are beige and the floor is mosaic tile.

A double bed was placed in the middle, with the blankets neatly folded.

Zhao Changjun was very shy. After entering the room, he was a little flustered. He sat on the edge of the bed and waved, saying, "Come in, come in."

Fangfang stood outside the door with a serious expression on her face, feeling an urge to run away.

However, when Zhao Changjun took out his money just now, she saw that there was quite a lot of money in his bag, all of them hundred-yuan bills.

After thinking for a moment, Fangfang put on her high heels, walked into the door, and turned around to close it.

"Let's get this straight, the fee is fifty yuan. If you want anything else done, you'll have to pay extra."

Zhao Changjun readily agreed: "Give me fifty first, and I'll see what I do after we're done."

"Okay." Fangfang threw her handbag on the bed, kicked off her high heels, and took off her coat.

"Bang, bang!"

At this time, there was a knock on the door.

Fangfang turned around and asked warily, "Who is it?"

"I'll get you the kettle."

"Oh, coming right away." Zhao Changjun heard the guesthouse owner's voice, stood up, and walked towards the door.

Fangfang shrank back a little to avoid being watched, which wasn't good.

As soon as Zhao Changjun opened the door, a dark figure flashed out.

Before he could even react, he was struck hard on the forehead, causing him to immediately fall to the ground.

The person who entered closed the door, raised the claw hammer in his hand, and smashed it hard on his head again.

One, two, three...

Fangfang stood by the window, completely terrified. When she came to her senses, she immediately screamed, "Help! Murder! Murder! Help!"

The boss straightened up, ran his fingers through his hair from his forehead, pointed a claw hammer at Fangfang, and roared, "Don't fucking yell, or I'll kill you right now!"

Fangfang was terrified. Her face was pale and her whole body was trembling. She glanced at Zhao Changjun lying on the floor.

At this moment, his entire head was smashed, his skull shattered like a watermelon falling from a height, blood flowing onto the mosaic floor and slowly spreading...

(End of this chapter)