Yan Hua spends the entire weekend playing with his son.

　　It wasn't until Sunday evening when his son remembered he had homework to do that he hurriedly rushed back home.

　　When he knocked on my door, I was still writing my teaching paper.

　　After opening the door, he asked angrily, "Why didn't you cook dinner for us?" I retorted, "You didn't eat out?" Yan Hua always liked taking his son to restaurants.

　　I used to disagree with it, thinking that eating out was not hygienic and that he should only eat at home.

　　Every time, even if he came back late, the food on the table was still hot.

　　This week, I decided to let him fully enjoy his time with his father, so I didn't make any phone calls.

　　"I have to come back to do homework," my son said while looking at me, expecting me to go to the kitchen and cook for them.

　　I sat there motionless and said, "The food is in the fridge.

　　If you want to eat, you can heat it up yourself." "Didn't you say doing household chores would interfere with studying?" he questioned.

　　"It's been delayed by a few days already.

　　What difference does it make if it's delayed a little longer? Will you fail to get into university because of this?" After saying that, my son's face turned dark.

　　"Just because you divorced my dad, am I no longer your son? You're not even willing to cook a meal?" "You are my son, but you also need to take care of your own matters," I continued, "besides, didn't you hate it when I arranged everything for you?" My son looked at me in disbelief, "I hate it when you only make me study, but I don't hate it when you cook for me, right?" In that moment, I suddenly understood the freedom my son wanted: I must unconditionally support what he wants to do, and selflessly take on tasks he doesn't want to do.

　　I smiled, shook my head, and didn't say anything.

　　My son shouted, "Look at how old you've become, I don't care about you!" After slamming the door, he left.