T H E R E A L M O F I M AG I N AT I O N F RO M
Wheels
For The Dragon
by Joan Strauss
Illustrated by Alyssa Winans
Text © 2016 by Joan Strauss, Art © 2016 by Alyssa Winans
Copyright © 2016 by Carus Publishing Company.
All rights reserved, including right of reproduction in whole or in part, in any form.
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ISBN 978-0-8126-6502-4
THE IMPERIAL
PALACE IN
BEIJING WAS
CALLED THE
FORIDDEN CITY,
BUT IT’S NO
LONGER FORBIDDEN
TO VISIT IT.
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P U Y I ’ S Y E L L O W dragon kite dipped and soared over
the red roofs of the Forbidden City. His hopes rose and fell with the
kite. If the wind carried his kite high, his wish might come true.
The yellow kite, a color only he, as emperor of China, could use,
climbed up and up. But although the winds buoyed up his kite, they did
not grant his wish: that his father would spend more time with him.
Prince Chun, his father, had arrived that morning, kowtowed to his son
by kneeling and touching his forehead to the ground, inquired about his
studies, and left. He had not even stayed his usual two minutes. Pu Yi had
counted to sixty twice. His father left on the forty-ninth second of the second minute. What good was being emperor?
When Pu Yi once asked his father why he must be an emperor, his
father told him, “When your uncle, the emperor, died, you were chosen
as the next ruler. You are the heir to the Dragon Throne.”
Now, Pu Yi let the yellow dragon crash to the ground. There were
plenty of attendants to pick it up. Courtiers and servants were always
there to grant his slightest desire.
“Temper again?” It was Mr. Johnston, Pu Yi’s tutor. Pu Yi hung
his head. Reginald Johnston was the only person, except his father,
who was permitted to tell him what to do. The tutor had come to the
Chinese court to acquaint Pu Yi with the Western world and to teach
him English.
“Lift your head,” he instructed. “I have brought two gentlemen
from America to meet you.”
Pu Yi looked up. There stood two men like his tutor. Their skin was
faded to a pale pink. They had hair of straw and light, round eyes. Each
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was supporting a large metal contraption with two big wheels and a long,
silver handle across the front.
“Is this a new toy they have brought me?”
Mr. Johnston smiled. “You might call it that. It is a vehicle on which
one can ride. It is known in English as a bicycle.”
Johnston nodded at the two Americans. They mounted the bicycles, their
legs circled furiously, and the vehicles traveled around the courtyard and back
to Pu Yi. Nothing Pu Yi had ever seen, except a horse, moved so fast.
“It must be like riding on the wind,” Pu Yi said enviously. Ignoring the
gasps of fear from the courtiers behind him, he reached out to touch the
gleaming bicycle.
One of the Americans spoke in his rough language. “Would you like to
ride the bicycle?” Mr. Johnston translated.
Pu Yi stepped up boldly to the machine. He waited for the American to
lift him on, as he was lifted into his palanquin.
“Not that way!” Mr. Johnston laughed, actually laughed at him, the
emperor! “You must climb onto it yourself and push the pedals with your
feet to make it move. That is why I have brought the Americans and their
bicycles here. It is good neither for your health, nor your character, to be carried everywhere in a palanquin as you are. A young lad like you should get
around by himself.”
One of the foreigners demonstrated how to sit on the machine and, by
signs, offered to help Pu Yi.
“The seat is hard!” Pu Yi said, surprised. “And high!” His feet dangled,
and he held tightly to the handles. Never had he felt so uncomfortable. A
A PALANQUIN IS A FANCY BOXLIKE
CONVEYANCE CARRIED ON POLES.
NICE
THIS IS A BADDDDD IDEA.
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Author’s Note Pu Yi, the last emperor of China, was born in 1906 and became
emperor in 1908. In 1912, when he was six years old, he was forced by political
unrest and rebellion to abdicate as ruler. However, he was allowed to retain his
traditional title and continued to live in luxury in the imperial palace, where he was
tutored in Western ways by a British diplomat, Reginald Johnston. Some hoped
that Pu Yi would one day be restored to power. But by the time the boy grew up,
China had become a Communist country. After two thousand years of imperial
rule, there were no more emperors, and Pu Yi became an ordinary citizen.
WHAT? NO! I DROPPED
MY GUM. IT’S AROUND
HERE SOMEWHERE...
ARE YOU KOWTOWING TO ME AT
LAST, HONORABLE CRICKET?
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PRINCE CHUN HAD RETAINERS
ON HIS TEETH?
NO, HERE RETAINERS ARE THE GUYS WHO FOLLOW
HIM AROUND, ALSO KNOWN AS HIS RETINUE.
Prince Chun sat down, with his retainers grouped around him. Pu
Yi mounted the bicycle and wheeled once around the courtyard, then
rode out one of the gates and in at the other. He pulled up in front of
little frightened, too, but being emperor, he could not admit it in front
of these strangers and the courtiers. “How do I make it go?”
“Push,” Mr. Johnston instructed. Pu Yi pushed with his feet. His
his father and braked to a quick stop, raising one arm in a flourish, as he
legs went around and around, like the Americans’. It felt like flying,
had done with Mr. Johnston.
just as he thought it would. And he felt safe, because the American
“Am I not clever, honored father?” Pu Yi asked proudly. He waited for
the words of praise and astonishment that would surely come.
Prince Chun’s face was impassive. “Surely you could spend your time
learning occupations better suited to an emperor. Any peasant can ride a
horse. What is this but a mechanical horse?”
He kowtowed to his son and departed, his retinue flocking after him
like so many geese.
was holding him with one hand and pushing the bicycle along with
the other.
“Look at me, look at me!” Pu Yi yelled. The courtiers obediently
bowed and smiled and cheered.
“Now you must try to ride the bicycle by yourself,” Mr. Johnston
told him. “The American will give you a push. Keep your feet moving.
Otherwise, it will fall. Push back on the pedal—gradually—when you
Pu Yi first wanted to let the bicycle crash to the ground, as he had
wish to stop.”
done with his yellow kite. But he gave the wheel a vicious twist and sped
away. In and out of plazas, past temples and pagodas, down alleys, he
raced, forcing people to swerve out of his way. Finally, under the concealing branches of a weeping willow, he gave way to tears.
But there was nobody to hand him a silken cloth. For the first time
he could remember, he was absolutely alone. No tutors, no servants, no
courtiers.
As he wiped his nose on his sleeve, his whimper turned into a shaky
laugh. “I’ve never been by myself before—another new thing! Like riding the bicycle!”
Pu Yi pushed the bicycle out from under the tree, looked back the
way he had come, then ahead down a path he had never traveled. He
would explore that path. Like his yellow kite, he would always need the
strings tying him to people. But he could sometimes fly on his own.
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5
WHOA! BICYCLING IS HARD, ESPECIALLY
WITHOUT HANDS OR FEET.
The American gave the machine a shove. There Pu Yi was, riding
with the wind! Only he forgot to keep his feet moving. The bicycle
toppled over, and Pu Yi with it. He heard the gasps of his entourage as
the American picked him up.
courtyard. Dismissing all his attendants except a servant, he ordered,
“Now I will ride, and you will hold the bicycle and push me.”
The man did as he was told. Again, Pu Yi had the glorious feeling of
being carried along by the wind.
The American was holding the bicycle for Pu Yi again. Didn’t he realize
Pu Yi’s knee hurt? Pu Yi made a big show of rubbing the sore place.
But now he would have to learn to ride by himself. He mounted
the bicycle as he had seen the Americans do and worked frantically at
Mr. Johnston showed no sympathy. “You will fall many times before
the pedals. The bicycle swerved to the left and toppled over, with Pu Yi
you learn to ride. Riding a bicycle is not something that is handed to you
entangled in it. The servant exclaimed and ran over, but this time Pu Yi
without effort.” Mr. Johnston had said that, too, about learning English.
did not wait to be helped up. He brushed himself off, took hold of the
“Does everything one does in your barbarian nations require effort?”
bicycle, and got on once more. He shoved off . . . and fell again. Again
Pu Yi demanded.
the servant ran to help him, but instead of the fearful look the man had
“Not only there, but in China, too. It is only because you are
emperor that you have never had to exert yourself.” Mr. Johnston led
worn earlier, Pu Yi detected a hint of amusement in his eyes. Something
else, too. Could it be a gleam of admiration?
him back to the machine. “This is not like being carried in your palan-
Every day, Pu Yi practiced in the small courtyard. On Mr. Johnston’s
quin. To ride, you must pedal and balance the bicycle yourself. No one
advice, he wore European trousers, so his billowing silks would not catch
can do it for you.”
in the wheels. When the courtyard became too small, Pu Yi ventured out
“Then I shall ride in my palanquin.”
onto the wider paths and squares. He had the sills between the courtyards
How tame and bumpy it was, after riding the bicycle! Pu Yi imag-
removed, so he could ride smoothly from one to the other.
ined himself whirling on a bicycle past the red-and-gold pavilions of the
He sent for Mr. Johnston. “Look at me!” He rode in a wide circle and
Forbidden City while admiring courtiers stared, open mouthed. Best of
skidded to a stop in front of the tutor, lifting one hand off the handlebars
all, his father, Prince Chun, would point out to everyone his brave and
in a triumphant wave. “I am going to show my father. Wait until he sees
clever son, who dared to ride this dangerous machine.
what I can do. No one in China has ever done this before.”
Pu Yi signaled his bearers to stop. “Have one of those bicycles delivered by the next steamship,” he commanded Mr. Johnston.
The bicycle finally arrived in all its silvery and blue-enameled splendor. Pu Yi walked around it two or three times, stroked the handlebars,
and blew the horn. Then he had the machine carried to a small back
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Prince Chun arrived, made the usual obeisance, and rose. “Well,
what is this marvelous new accomplishment? Does it have something to
do with that machine? I have heard about your riding on it.”
“Yes, honored parent. If you will be pleased to sit, I will
demonstrate.”
OBEISANCE IS A GESTURE EXPRESSING
RESPECT, SUCH AS A BOW OR CURTSY.
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