Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system

The operators glanced around, observing the gossiping onlookers as they quietly assessed whether public sentiment would tilt in a positive or negative direction in the days to come.

A policewoman soon approached them, requesting official statements about what they had witnessed and the actions that followed.

As expected, the Spirit Fox operators, moving in silent accord, kept their testimonies focused on the essentials—demonstrating strict adherence to procedures and the rule of law in their reports.

Still, the policewoman recording their statements couldn't help massaging her throbbing temples, sneaking a glance toward the prison van where the suspect had been dumped. Her ears were nearly calloused from hearing the man's repeated complaints—excessive force, threats, demands to sue Spirit Fox.

She and her colleagues had nearly laughed out loud. Sue Spirit Fox? Would any judge even dare take that case?

Every suspect held a grudge after enduring Spirit Fox's notorious treatment—but without exception, every one of them had been guilty. Spirit Fox operators never harmed the innocent, even when bending or outright breaking the law. That restraint, that brutal precision, only broke down when they encountered the truly vile.

So, the policewoman and her fellow officers ignored the suspect's whining, though they couldn't help but feel curious about what exactly had transpired in those blind spots.

The operators, likely aware of that curiosity, exchanged helpless glances—then turned collectively to shoot accusing looks at the teammate responsible for the rough treatment.

The culprit simply shrugged and muttered, "He deserved it."

One of her colleagues shook her head and said, "Why don't we go check on the woman and her daughter? It wouldn't hurt to accompany them, maybe ease their minds a bit."

"I suspect you just want to kill time under the guise of comfort."

"Come on, sisters. Our shift's nearly over. Let's do something decent to end it."

With that, the four operators quietly withdrew, leaving the remaining mess for the local police station to clean up.

Two of their vehicles rolled off in the direction of the hospital. After all, the woman—still trembling, still clutching her child—deserved more than just legal justice. She needed reassurance, safety, and human warmth.

They had broken her door, damaged parts of the apartment during the arrest—intentional or not, it was their responsibility to see it through. That was the code they followed, the one passed down by Ling Qingyu.

Their boss rarely explained how she handled aftermaths or rooted out deeper causes, but her actions always spoke louder than words. Time and again, the sisters of Spirit Fox had witnessed her brilliance—not just in solving problems, but in curing them at the root.

Not once had she left a loose end for opportunists to exploit, or a survivor vulnerable to retaliation. Even when nobody noticed, she ensured her people shielded those they saved—until the very end.

This level of thoroughness extended far beyond the battlefield. In business matters too, the same meticulous precision prevailed. Even the so-called "silly sisters" from Spirit Fox—who usually had no grasp of the financial world—couldn't help but feel a chill when witnessing the absolute control of the chessboard and the uncanny foresight in calculating future outcomes.

Before long, they reunited with the mother and daughter at the hospital. This time, the duo was under careful protection, thanks to a request from the police.

There wasn't much needed in terms of physical treatment—just tending to a few minor injuries from the initial battery and struggle the mother endured.

But it was the emotional and psychological trauma that posed a greater threat. Recognizing this, the police had sent over counselors and a policewoman for support.

Perhaps it was because Spirit Fox had been the ones to save them when they were in danger, but the mother and daughter showed clear trust in the operators. Their presence visibly lifted the atmosphere, offering a sense of safety and warmth.

Soon, the little girl's curiosity returned in full force. She peppered the operatives with endless questions, bouncing with energy. The operators responded with soft smiles, indulging her cheerfully.

Their own fatigue seemed to melt away in the face of the child's innocent joy. Truly, there was no better cure for the weight of the adult world than a child's carefree laughter.

Later, the doctor declared the mother and daughter well enough to be discharged. Spirit Fox could have easily leveraged the benefits of keeping them at the hospital longer—but they weren't about to manipulate the situation or burden the medical staff.

Yet sending them home wasn't an option either—not while the apartment remained damaged and unsafe.

After a quick internal discussion, Spirit Fox arranged for temporary accommodation—either at a hotel funded by the Spirit Foundation (a charitable organization established by Tao Ling under Ling Qingyu's initiatives), or, if they preferred, a week's stay at the Imperial Resort until repairs were complete.

Surprisingly, the mother declined the offer, even after reassurances that it was the operators' moral duty to take responsibility for breaking into the home and that the foundation existed precisely for such support.

She politely insisted on staying at a modest hotel instead. In her eyes, being rescued from the clutches of evil was more than enough. As for the damage to her property, that was an unavoidable consequence—she wasn't the type to nitpick compensation or exploit legal loopholes for personal gain.

It wasn't until the operators expressed concern for her daughter's safety that she finally relented and accepted the arrangement.

The operators, in turn, gladly offered to escort and assist them for the evening, casually noting that they were available to help settle them in, despite their shift already over.

Their kindness brightened the sorrowful mother's heart, reigniting a fragile belief in humanity. At the very least, there were still people willing to help.

Even if society pushed her toward despair again in the future, she now held the confidence to endure.

Sometimes, careless words could push someone over the edge—but even the smallest act of presence and kindness could pull them back.

Shortly after, the group departed from the hospital. One vehicle transported the mother and daughter, while the other bid farewell and opted to make a short patrol nearby before heading back to base.

When the daughter mentioned she was hungry, the two operators gladly took a small detour to the nearest snack restaurant.

They insisted on treating the mother and daughter—completely ignoring the mother's polite refusal, leaving her helpless in the face of their determination.

They chose a KFC. The operators, feeling a bit hungry themselves, decided to order something too. The service wasn't particularly good, but not terrible either.

One operator went inside to place the order, while the other stayed outside to keep the mother and daughter company.

If not for their intimidating uniforms and Spirit Fox reputation, perhaps the staff wouldn't have taken their presence seriously. The operator overheard multiple customers complaining about missing items and repeatedly going up to the counter.

Still, she chalked it up to a new staff member. Everyone had those early days filled with mistakes—the key was to grow and learn from them.

Of course, employers had to be prepared to endure a bit of chaos during a new hire's adjustment period.

Soon, the operator returned to find her partner and the mother-daughter duo sitting on a bench outside on the sidewalk.

"Wow, enjoying yourself like a tourist, huh?" she teased.

"Thankfully, you're so aware—junior," her partner shot back with a smirk.

The mother smiled gently, a soft laugh escaping her lips. She wondered if these amiable, playful Spirit Fox operatives were truly real—not the ruthless figures their reputation suggested.

"Here you go, child. Eat up," one of the operators said, handing over the food.

"Thank you, Sister," the little girl replied politely.

"It's Aunty, not Sister," her partner joked.

The girl looked thoughtful and apologized sincerely. "Oh, Aunty. I'm sorry I called you wrong."

"No, you're not wrong, hon. It's this ba—baddie who's teasing you," the operator corrected with a mock glare at her partner.

"How much for the chicken and fries? I'll pay," the mother offered quietly.

"Please, don't worry about it," her partner replied, waving it off. "Once we make up our minds, no one can change them."

She then pulled out a card and added, "If you run into trouble at work or in the neighborhood because of what happened tonight, don't hesitate to call this number and report your situation truthfully. They take confidentiality seriously—just like we do."

The mother glanced at their uniforms—hoods, helmets, tactical gear—everything covered except their eyes.

"You know," one of the operators said, tone softening, "back then, we didn't even dare interact too much with residents. We were afraid criminals would retaliate and hurt the people we spoke to.

Now that the province is finally peaceful—compared to the chaos of the past—I never imagined I'd be sitting here, casually chatting with someone like you."

The mother inwardly guessed whether she was expanding her network with Spirit Fox operators, not knowing that she thought too much, inexplicably.

The two operators had nothing to do and wanted to enjoy life. At the same time, they were also considering caring for a single-parent family to the most possible extent without affecting their lives.