He Doesn't Love You At All

The bartender's "Mexicans" were a group of Mexicans in Old Town dealing in liquor.

Many public intellectuals fool people into thinking that Chinese are hardworking and can make big money in America.

In reality, there's no shortage of people who can endure hardship here.

Take the Mexicans, for example.

Most of them are also undocumented immigrants who came through the border, and they charge even less—cutthroat competition.

The key point is, they also speak English, which puts them way ahead of many Runners who can't communicate.

What's more, Mexicans have guts—they'll do anything.

Take this Black Liquor Factory right here—it only works at night, dumping endless booze into clubs and bars.

A steady stream of US dollars flows in here; if it weren't protected, it would've been robbed countless times.

"Wait, where's the Mexicans? Where's the job?"

Sitting in a black car parked in the alley, Li Ang and Frank watched for a while.

The roller shutter door of the black factory ahead was open, light spilling out, but no one was in sight.

"Are the hardworking Mexicans slacking off too?"

Hearing Li Ang's words, Frank snorted, "These Mexicans are all blind bastards, not hardworking at all."

In many people's eyes, outsiders are disgusting because they steal job opportunities.

"Let's go check it out."

Li Ang unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and got ready to step out.

"Hold on."

Frank called out, "This is Demon Gang territory. Take this."

He skillfully opened the center console, pulled out a Glock, and handed it to Li Ang.

'I'm a good guy—shouldn't I be getting a USP?'

Li Ang silently took it, tucked it into his waistband where no one could see.

Then Frank got out too, and the two walked side by side.

With Frank, the Big Guy, beside him, Li Ang felt oddly at ease.

Since they were in another gang's turf, they approached cautiously.

"Not a sound."

They exchanged a glance and went straight to the roller shutter door.

Peeking in, they saw a Mexican lying on the ground, looking like he was sleeping peacefully.

But he definitely hadn't fallen asleep naturally.

Because inside, bodies were scattered every which way, all passed out cold.

Though they looked rough—some with big lumps on their heads, others with black eyes and swollen faces.

"What happened?"

Frank immediately pulled out his pistol.

Big as he was, in Gotham, you use a gun before you rely on brute force.

"Careful."

Li Ang signaled him to stay still and listened for a moment.

From inside came faint breathing sounds, followed by a 'gurgle, gurgle.'

Drinking?

Seeing this scene in a booze dealer's place, someone clearly came to drink and didn't want to pay.

So the simplest method was to knock everyone out—no payment needed.

Gotta say.

That's very Gotham.

So he and Frank exchanged a look and walked inside.

The person inside didn't seem to notice them until they were right there, still gulping down booze.

"Is that... Harley Quinn?"

Frank recognized her at once.

Li Ang, on the other hand, stared for a long time, because the Harley Quinn before him looked just like a circus performer—black and red bodysuit, a hood on her head...

"Who are you? Dressed so old-fashioned, you're definitely not Little Pudding's men."

Harley Quinn finally glanced at them.

Frank looked down at his suit and tie—so mature and steady.

Li Ang glanced at his own casual outfit—definitely the kind of thing that would get him called old-fashioned!

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Li Ang twitched the corner of his mouth and spoke up: "And I thought it was someone special. That clown costume of yours went out of style in the nineties; wearing it now is just sad."

"Circuses in this era wouldn't even hire you, ma'am."

"Fuck!"

Harley Quinn smashed a bottle right then and there, springing to her feet.

She stared at Li Ang for a long moment.

"Burp~"

Just as Frank thought she was about to strike, she let out a hiccup first, then started flailing around like a madwoman.

"You're right! Are you some kind of Trend Master?"

Harley Quinn circled around Li Ang, poking his arm with her small finger: "Hey, you help me change my look, and then help me win back Little Pudding, how about that? He changed his mind—he doesn't love me anymore!"

This sudden shift caught Frank off guard; he'd been ready to throw down.

Even though he was definitely no match for Harley Quinn, he'd steeled himself not to go down too easily.

Hearing Harley Quinn's words, Li Ang realized her situation.

So she was a simp who got dumped.

No wonder she was drinking alone.

So Li Ang said: "No."

"No? What do you mean, no?"

Harley Quinn looked a bit angry, making Frank tense up as he kept signaling Li Ang with his eyes.

Li Ang replied: "You can't win back the Joker. He doesn't love you at all."

"How is that possible!"

Hearing Li Ang's words, Harley Quinn shrieked.

"You have no idea what he said to me—he said he'd love me forever, till the seas run dry, and he also said..."

She trailed off, then shook her head: "He said a lot, anyway. If not me, who does he love?"

Harley Quinn's face was murderous, as if she was about to beat up some homewrecker.

Li Ang said calmly: "Batman, of course."

"The Joker's whole life has been a love-hate dance with Batman. Why would he change his heart because of you?"

The murderous Harley Quinn froze at this answer.

A woman deep in doubt immediately started piecing together the cause and effect in her mind. As she recalled, it really did seem that way.

Because everything the Joker did was to oppose Batman.

Every time Batman showed up, he laughed with pure joy.

"Ah!!"

"I don't love you anymore, never again!"

Harley Quinn went completely crazy, flipping backward into the air.

"Thud!"

Then she landed headfirst on the ground.

"Snore!"

Soon, the sound of her deep sleep echoed.

"Is she... drunk?" Frank asked.

"Looks like it," Li Ang said, surveying the scene. Harley Quinn had downed who knows how much—her tolerance was impressive.

"What do we do now?" Frank asked Li Ang.

"Carry her to the car first. Leave her here, and she'll get picked up," Li Ang said.

Frank obeyed without question, but he didn't move: "You do it. I don't dare."

He was afraid Harley Quinn was faking sleep; if he touched her, his fingers might get crushed.

But it wasn't her he feared—it was the Joker.

Even Penguin Cobblepot found that guy a headache.

A crazy beauty like her—ordinary people definitely couldn't handle her!

To save time, Li Ang picked Harley Quinn up.

And honestly, though she looked skinny, all her flesh was in the right places. From his eye, the scale was impressive—it's just that her circus-like outfit didn't show it off.