Wheels for the Dragon by Joan Strauss

THE REALM OF IMAGINATION FROM

Wheels For The Dragon by Joan Strauss

Illustrated by Alyssa Winans THE IMPERIAL PALACE IN BEIJING WAS CALLED THE FORIDDEN CITY, BUT IT’S NO LONGER FORBIDDEN TO VISIT IT.

2 PU YI’S YELLOW 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

3 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

NICE A PALANQUIN IS A FANCY BOXLIKE CONVEYANCE CARRIED ON POLES. THIS IS A BADDDDD IDEA.

4 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 legs went around and around, like the Americans’. It felt like flying, just as he thought it would. And he felt safe, because the American 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 wish to stop.”

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. 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. Mr. Johnston showed no sympathy. “You will fall many times before you learn to ride. Riding a bicycle is not something that is handed to you without effort.” Mr. Johnston had said that, too, about learning English. “Does everything one does in your barbarian nations require effort?” Pu Yi demanded. “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 him back to the machine. “This is not like being carried in your palanquin. To ride, you must pedal and balance the bicycle yourself. No one can do it for you.” “Then I shall ride in my palanquin.” How tame and bumpy it was, after riding the bicycle! Pu Yi imag- ined himself whirling on a bicycle past the red-and-gold pavilions of the Forbidden City while admiring courtiers stared, open mouthed. Best of all, his father, Prince Chun, would point out to everyone his brave and clever son, who dared to ride this dangerous machine. Pu Yi signaled his bearers to stop. “Have one of those bicycles deliv- ered by the next steamship,” he commanded Mr. Johnston. The bicycle finally arrived in all its silvery and blue-enameled splen- dor. 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

6 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. 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 the pedals. The bicycle swerved to the left and toppled over, with Pu Yi entangled in it. The servant exclaimed and ran over, but this time Pu Yi did not wait to be helped up. He brushed himself off, took hold of the bicycle, and got on once more. He shoved off . . . and fell again. Again the servant ran to help him, but instead of the fearful look the man had worn earlier, Pu Yi detected a hint of amusement in his eyes. Something else, too. Could it be a gleam of admiration? Every day, Pu Yi practiced in the small courtyard. On Mr. Johnston’s advice, he wore European trousers, so his billowing silks would not catch in the wheels. When the courtyard became too small, Pu Yi ventured out onto the wider paths and squares. He had the sills between the courtyards removed, so he could ride smoothly from one to the other. He sent for Mr. Johnston. “Look at me!” He rode in a wide circle and skidded to a stop in front of the tutor, lifting one hand off the handlebars in a triumphant wave. “I am going to show my father. Wait until he sees what I can do. No one in China has ever done this before.” 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.

7 PRINCE CHUN HAD RETAINERS NO, HERE RETAINERS ARE THE GUYS WHO FOLLOW ON HIS TEETH? 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 his father and braked to a quick stop, raising one arm in a flourish, as he had done with Mr. Johnston. “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. Pu Yi first wanted to let the bicycle crash to the ground, as he had 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 con- cealing 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.

8 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 ARE YOU KOWTOWING TO ME AT MY GUM. IT’S AROUND LAST, HONORABLE CRICKET? HERE SOMEWHERE...

All Cricket Media material is copyrighted by Carus Publishing Company, d/b/a Cricket Media, and/or various authors and illustrators. Any commercial use or distribution of material without permission is strictly prohibited. Please visit cricketmedia.com/licensing for licensing and cricketmedia.com for subscriptions.

ISBN 978-0-8126-6502-4