King Zhāng breathed heavily in anger at the impertinence of his youngest son’s absence when he explicitly ordered his attendance at the court’s welcome home meeting. He looked down at Yǒng Ming from his throne seated on a platform above the rest of the grand hall and met his defensive gaze.

“I see the war hasn’t cured him of his disrespect and dishonor of his father or his king,” was his impatient observation.

“He was worried about Concubine Méihuā Qīn'ài, Father,” Yǒng Ming justified his absence. “Certainly, you can understand. It wasn’t only her illness alone but his guilt that it was his mission that inflicted her with her condition.”

He looked toward his mother in hopes she would assist the defense of his brother, and she placed her hand on her husband’s arm.

“Your Majesty,” she softly said, “if anyone is to blame, it is the messenger who had no authority to tell him of her condition. Gāng Jié, if it were me who was ill, would you be so harsh on Yǒng Ming for rushing to my side?”

The king huffed and was about to surrender to her wise words when Jié Qiáng noisily entered the hall. His boots pounded on the lavishly embroidered rug as he made his approach, all the while speaking loudly enough to be heard on the way to the throne.

“Of course, he wouldn’t, Royal Mother,” he chastised, drawing every eye on his entrance and furious demeanor. “My mother is merely a concubine and I am little more than a concubine’s son.”

King Zhāng was about to interrupt, but Jié Qiáng continued, unfettered by the redness creeping across his angered father’s face.

“Why is my mother confined to a secluded manor away from the other concubines?” he demanded to know.

He stopped at the end of the steps to the throne platform and continued. He ignored the royal guard, who stepped closer with their hands ready on their swords. Prince or not, no one would be permitted to show hostility before the king.

“You’re to blame for her illness,” he continued. “I asked around before I came here and found you were the one who ordered a messenger to deliver news of everything we did at the battle.”

He turned to Yǒng Ming and angrily asked, “Did you know?”

“What?” Yǒng Ming replied in surprise. “Father? Did you do this? You know we were risking everything for that mission, none more than Qiáng.

Of all the battles I’ve been in and all those I’ve led, you’ve never ignored the security of our movements. Had the messengers been taken by the enemy, either of our enemies, everything would have been ruined and Qiáng would likely be dead.”

“Silence!” King Zhāng ordered and shook off his wife’s hand when she tried to calm him. “How dare either of you accuse me of forgoing procedure and endangering your lives, either of your lives?

I never received information that wasn’t important for our Ministry of War to know. This plan for Jié Qiáng’s capture by the Wáng Píng was critical for us. My messenger knew he must send word in the event more of our troops were needed to rescue him.

Do you both think so little of my duty as his king or of my fatherly affections for him that I would allow him to remain their hostage should the plan fail? We needed time to have a battalion ready at a moment’s notice if needed.

As for Concubine Méihuā hearing of it, that was never my intention.” His voice calmed and his tone softened. “The queen suspected the other concubines told her out of worry, and she was right. They didn’t feel she should be the only one in the palace to not know such news of her only child.

The initial discovery didn’t do this to her. The physician believes the shock numbed her mind until she finally realized the direness of the situation and fell into despair.

The physician recommended a place of quiet solitude for her recovery. If she didn’t hear news of the war, there would be no risk of further strain on her feeble mind.

I’m terribly sorry your homecoming has been to this, my son. I wanted to be the one to tell you and bring her to you, myself. Now that you know and have seen her and we’ve clarified the situation, we can move on to the other issues at hand.”

“As you wish, Father,” agreed Yǒng Ming.

He was eager to have the conversation moved to less-personal news to be had before a room full of officials. He was, also, eager to speak of his brother’s heroism so they would learn of how Jié Qiáng had become the man they’d long demanded from the king.