The Joker doesn't love Harley Quinn—he only loves Batman. What makes the Joker uniquely compelling is his embodiment of pure evil, unshaken by anything. This "evil" isn't just narrow malice but a culmination of all non-positive emotions and thoughts. Love, by contrast, is inherently positive. At least, it is in most cases.
If the Joker were capable of love, it certainly wouldn't be the kind a normal person could comprehend. Ordinary people might glimpse fragments that resemble conventional "love," but the vast, unseen or incomprehensible remainder is what fuels the controversy in their minds.
Hong Fei couldn't definitively determine whether the Joker's feelings for Harley constituted "love" or not. Even if he witnessed their interactions firsthand, he doubted he could arrive at a clear answer.
"Hong," Harleen asked with a charming smile, "do you curse when you're very angry?"
She dropped the formal "Mr." and used just his surname, her tone instantly bridging the gap between doctor and patient to something more intimate.
"I don't," Hong replied. I'd just smile and chop up the person who made me angry.
"What about when you're alone? Do you ever throw things?"
"No." I'd only throw the other person's corpse to the dogs.
"You really are a gentle man."
"Thank you." Isn't that so?
Arthur's voice whispered low in Hong Fei's ear, "Sir, I know that's your inner thought, but your current performance doesn't align with the previous Q&A."
Hong Fei opened his eyes to gauge Harleen's expression, but she reached out and gently covered them.
"Don't open them," she murmured. "Close your eyes. Relax everything about you, okay?"
Even in that fleeting glance, Hong Fei noticed something off about Harleen. Though he'd never practiced psychology, he doubted a normal counselor would adopt such a lover-like posture with a patient or mimic her tone and gaze so vividly. If that were standard, the entire counseling profession would be filled with actors.
He suspected Harleen's behavior wasn't driven by a sudden attraction to him but by her gradual unveiling of the madness that Joker had planted in her. She likely believed this approach would yield richer research material—nothing more. She hadn't noticed her own abnormality. A doctor can't heal themselves.
Harleen's questions grew increasingly blunt. If her earlier inquiries were separated by alloy walls, these were now veiled by only the thinnest fabric.
"Do you have a woman you like?"
"Yes." Three.
"What is she like?"
"Wise, virtuous, brave."
"Wow, what an amazing woman."
"Hmm." They are three amazing women.
"Do you think this is the most beautiful thing?"
"Yes."
Harleen gently massaged Hong Fei's temples, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly.
"Have you ever thought about destroying something beautiful?"
"No." I'd only whip them on specific occasions and at specific times.
Harleen frowned silently, her hands never pausing. The deeper the conversation went, the stronger the doubts in her heart grew. Though his answers were indirect, a meticulous analysis pointed to a conclusion that both excited and unsettled her.
Lack of empathy. This was her field of study, the focus of years of research—a condition she knew intimately. In short, it is that under a high-pressure environment, humans will gradually become less compassionate, eventually losing control completely and causing tragedies. And the root reason for Harleen's research lies in her belief that the symptom of "lack of empathy" is the main reason why there are so many villains in Gotham City.
However, in the second step of the in-depth chat, Hong Fei's performance was different from before. She began to suspect whether Hong Fei was deliberately refusing to provide real answers, or if the previous answers were the fake ones. Thinking of this, Harleen looked at Hong Fei's face and suddenly changed the subject.
"Hong, what is your job?"
"Police."
"Oh? Gotham Police Department?"
"No, it's New York."
"Do you want to settle down in New York?"
"No, it's just because New York is safer than Gotham, but I will return to Gotham one day."
"Why?"
"To clear away the darkness of Gotham."
Harleen smiled, "Is this also the reason why you suffer from insomnia?"
Hong Fei sighed long, "Yes, after I became a Police officer, I realized that the situation in Gotham is far more complicated than I imagined."
"You have great ideals; Gotham City needs Police officers like you."
Harleen praised and encouraged him naturally, but her brain was thinking quickly.
"I don't think I can do it well."
Harleen's eyes flashed, "Why do you want to be a Police officer?"
"Because the identity of a Police officer is more suitable for dealing with Gotham's problems in a targeted manner."
"Hmm, what was the initial intention? I mean, when you first thought about being a Police officer, what was the original stimulus?"
Hong Fei suddenly thought of various shooting scenes of the U.S. Police. After thinking about it, he didn't hide it and admitted directly, "Violence. The Police station is a violent institution. As a Police officer, you can reasonably and legally use violence to control violence to deal with criminal behavior. This is the greatest deterrent to those who have committed crimes or are preparing to commit crimes."
Hearing this, Harleen suddenly smiled silently.
"You said it so well, I think so too. Sometimes when I see or even just hear about the pitiful appearance of those victims, I want to catch the criminals myself and punish them severely."
"That's right, those people really need to be punished."
Harleen said deliberately angrily, "They should spend the rest of their lives in prison."
"More than that, I think abolishing the death penalty is the biggest mistake. Some people really deserve to die."
Harleen became excited, and the strength of her hands increased unknowingly, "Death penalty... Do you think the death penalty should not be abolished?"
"Of course, some people really deserve to die. They only waste food and air while alive."
"Hmm, that makes sense. By the way, you are a Police officer, are you afraid of watching horror movies?"
"No, I actually quite like horror movies."
"You are really amazing; I don't dare to watch them."
Even with a different face, Harleen's conversational skills did not diminish. On the contrary, she was better at finding suitable topics and entry points, subtly guiding Hong Fei to say the answers she wanted but hadn't asked directly. If this were a friend, she would certainly be a good friend who could talk about anything. It's a pity she is a psychological counselor, and a psychological counselor who has begun to "mutate."
Her massage technique was very good. Hong Fei even felt that if he were really like an ordinary person, he would have been drowsy under the guidance of the other party's technique, environment, tone, etc., and would not have the energy to think or disguise when facing questions. He even gradually cast aside the packaging of some non-sensitive questions, which forced Arthur to whisper to remind him again and again.
The conversation finally wound down after what felt like hours.
"Want to get some rest?"
"Mmm."
Hong Fei's response was drowsy.
"Then sleep awhile. I'll wake you later."
"Okay."
Harleen withdrew her hands slowly, rising with deliberate quietness. Even the door clicked shut with feather-light precision.
The moment she left, Hong Fei's eyes snapped open. His brow furrowed as he stared at the ceiling.
In the adjacent room, Harleen worked with frenetic energy. She plugged in headphones, cued the voice recorder, and played their session on loop while her fingers flew across the keyboard. With each replay, her eyes gleamed brighter—a child unwrapping the perfect gift.
Thirty minutes later, she pushed the door open. The lights brightened in gradual increments.
Hong Fei stirred awake to find Harleen's face inches from his own.
"You're up. How do you feel?"
"Great." He offered a smile and let her help him sit up. But the sight of her grin sent a cold realization through him—he'd misread her completely.
This wasn't about unconsciously mining his psyche for research material. She was obsessed with proving her pet theory: that Gotham's crime wave stemmed from empathy deficits. She needed him to validate it. It violated every research ethic. Worse—it was pathological.
They moved to the sitting area. Harleen poured him water before settling opposite with that practiced, placid smile. Suddenly, she was all professionalism again. The cedarwood scent in the air seemed to thin.
"Mr. Hong, your condition isn't severe. But your symptoms happen to intersect perfectly with my current study."
She laced her fingers together.
"I'd like to propose a collaboration."
"Go on."
Her gaze drifted to the empty studio.
"This space will be vacated soon. I'm discontinuing private practice—a benefactor's funding my new research at Arkham. Occasional visits to Blackgate, too."
She waved a hand.
"Don't worry, though your profile aligns with my subjects, you're different. Your self-control and methodology are... constructive. Helpful, even."
Helpful for twisting data to fit your narrative, Hong Fei thought.
"So I'm inviting you to join my study. No fees—I'll cover your travel from New York too. Just periodic sessions at set intervals."
A doctor who pays you to be analyzed? Now that's a diagnosis. He suppressed a grimace.
"Dr. Harleen, what exactly is this 'problem' you keep referencing?"
She opened her folder with a crisp snap.
"Before we proceed, know this: my assessments are flawless. Whether a subject lies, evades, or tells partial truths, their answers always reveal patterns."
Her fingertip tapped the page.
"Every response is cross-referenced with vocal stress, microexpressions, and my proprietary analysis. My track record speaks for itself—zero errors to date."
All series of questions and answers are finally determined by the counselor—that is, my personal independent statistics and analysis, combined with my judgment of your tone and expression just now, and there will basically be no problems with the results. In fact, before this, my judgment has never made any mistakes.
"That's why Wayne Enterprises approved my research funding."
Hong Fei gave a slow nod, recognizing the other party's undeniable expertise. In his experience, the most competent professionals often had a dangerous edge when pushed too far.
Harleen slid the file across the table. Hong Fei glanced down at the damning words: Lack of empathy.
"This is the main reason why I was able to get research funding from Wayne Enterprises."