My father was once the person I feared most and tried hardest to please. He ruled our home like an emperor, and we all learned to read his face before speaking. When I began excelling academically in middle school, he finally noticed me, which was remarkable for a man whose generation valued sons over daughters. To keep that rare attention, I studied as if my life depended on it: four hours of sleep a night, no holidays, until I became the first college student in our extended family (his four brothers and my mother’s five siblings included.) He was proud of me..
            But after entering university in the vast city of Guangzhou, I began reading psychology and feminist theory. I realized that his conditional love was corrosive, and that I no longer need his approval to live. That was when I stopped going home. Even during breaks, I stayed in the city to work and study, placing distance between myself and the family. After graduation, even as I married, bought an apartment, and had a daughter, he never once asked how I was. We became familiar strangers..
            Yesterday, he texted to say he and my mother were coming to Guangzhou for his medical check. One of the vessels in his brain had been blocked and required regular monitoring. I assumed it was just the two of them, as always. But when I opened the door, I saw my older sister, jobless, divorced, and still owing me a large debt, and my retired uncle, who had never liked me. When my sister and I visited him one summer in primary school, he told my mother he wished my sister could stay and I could leave. I could not even master a polite smile..
            My laptop was open on the dining table. These weeks have been the peak of my project; I’ve been working overnight almost every day. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t ask if it was a good time..
            I brewed tea in silence and returned to my computer. I knew I was supposed to greet them warmly and asked about their trip, but the client was waiting online. Being late five minutes could bring a complaint. After a month of nonstop work and another sleepless night, I had nothing left to offer.
He stood up and said he was going out. I recognized the tone. He was angry. Years ago, I would have run after him, apologizing, explaining. Now, I only looked up, then lowered my head and kept typing. I had long abandoned the effort to become the daughter he wanted: obedient, accommodating, willing to shrink herself to please him..
            Five years ago, when my daughter was born, he didn’t come to see her. That Spring Festival, when I brought her home, he didn’t even reach to hold her. Instead, he talked at length about how clever and promising his grandson, my brother’s son, was. I had planned to stay the night, but left for Guangzhou that same evening. I could lower myself to win his approval, but I refused to let my daughter inherit that wound. After that, I went home even less, and eventually stopped returning for Spring Festival altogether..
            So now he left the apartment with my mother, my sister, and my uncle.
I knew he would not return..
            Years ago, I would have begged for his forgiveness and tried to repair the moment. Now, even knowing he expected an apology, I simply walked them to the door..
            Half an hour later, he texted,” We’ve booked a hotel. We’ll have dinner out. We won’t trouble you anymore.”.
            I looked at the screen and didn’t reply.

Huina Zheng either writes as an admission coach at work, or writes for fun after work.