Song of the Yellow Dragon - Hardcover

Low, Ying Ping

 
9798217005086: Song of the Yellow Dragon
Hardcover
ISBN 13: 9798217005086
Verlag: G.P.Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers', 2026

Inhaltsangabe

Two children search for a legendary dragon's magic in this enchanting fantasy, perfect for readers ages 9-13!

There is a secret that every child knows: Magic is real. But by the time children turn thirteen, they forget that magic is anything but make-believe.

Mengyao wants to remember. Born in a village nestled in a secluded vale, Mengyao wants to hold on to magic and become a Divine Healer. But with her thirteenth birthday fast approaching, she is losing hope.

Young emperor Kai is on the run from traitorous advisors. He’s searching for the fabled Dragon’s Pulse, a magic capable of defeating his enemies. On the brink of his thirteenth birthday, Kai doesn’t have much longer. So when he meets Mengyao—the girl whose name is mentioned in his legend—he forces aside his instinctual distrust and recruits her to help him on his quest.

On their perilous journey, Kai and Mengyao find aid in unexpected forms like a jade hare, a moon goddess, and a handful of promises. But as enemies close in and time runs out, secrets that will reshape the fate of their kingdom forever come to light.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Ying Ping Low has published multiple middle grade novels in Singapore. Her novels have won the Singapore Book Award and been shortlisted for the Hedwig Anuar Children’s Book Award and the Popular Readers’ Choice Award. While she has also received acclaim for her poems and short stories, novels are her preferred form of writing. Song of the Yellow Dragon will be her first novel published into the US market. Ying Ping lives in Singapore, where she picked up crocheting just before the pandemic and has never stopped since.

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It was a false spring. Three months into the new year, the weather turned, and it snowed again. The flowers, tricked into blooming, now froze in the bitter wind.
It was a lesson the boy-emperor, only two winters on the throne, took deep into his heart like a throbbing drumbeat: Do not trust. Do not. Do not ever trust.

—

Wang Kaixuan crouched beneath the study-room table, mere steps away from the two men he was hiding from. The yellow, heavily embroidered tablecloth that flowed down to the four dragon-claw legs shielded him from view. He dared not move a muscle, not even to scratch his nose, which was—you won’t be surprised to hear—itching terribly. It always does under such circumstances, doesn’t it? Kaixuan wasn’t sure if it was an ant, a cobweb, or simply a very bad feeling.

“He’s not here,” one of the men was saying. “He must have finished his studies early and gone off to play.” His tone was low and musing, the words unfurling slowly like smoke coiling off his tongue.

Kaixuan recognized the voice straightaway. How could he not? It had whispered into his ear every day for the past two years, telling him what to say during his morning audiences with the ministers, instructing him how to respond to the proposals submitted to him. It belonged to Zhang Yu, the grand chancellor. He was the late queen’s brother and had climbed to his position through a combination of blood ties and ruthless ambition. The boy shuddered. It had been a long time since he’d trusted any­one, and there was no one he distrusted more than his uncle.

“Do we have to chase after that child again?” the other man grumbled. This voice, haughty and nasal, was familiar too, and no less hated by the boy-emperor. It was the imperial secretary, Liang Jin.

These two men had controlled every aspect of Kaixuan’s life since his father died two years ago from a sudden, unidentified illness. Now, you must know that as a rule, emperors do not die suddenly from unexplained causes. I’m sorry to say that he had probably been murdered, and by men clever enough to hide the evidence. Ascending the throne at the tender age of ten, Kaixuan had had no choice but to let himself be guided by the very people who he knew had likely killed his father.

“That child,” Zhang Yu replied in a measured tone, “if I may remind you, is our emperor.”

Liang Jin snorted. “In name only. Oh, I’m so tired of this baby­sitting. We should just kill him now and be done with the farce.”

Kaixuan’s fists tightened against his sides, not from fear but from anger. He wanted to rise up now and throw Liang Jin’s trea­sonous words back against his face. He wanted to yell to the palace guards to come and arrest these traitors. But the palace guards were all under Zhang Yu’s control. Kaixuan was the em­peror, but he was just a child and had no real power.

Even knowing this, the boy wanted to rise up. He had smiled and nodded and obeyed these evil men for two long years, and still they wanted to kill him. The hot blood rushed in his ears, and his calf muscles tensed, ready to support him.

And then it seemed the wind blew through the room, knock­ing over a slim vase on the table with a clunk that felt like a sharp rap to his head, and he remembered what he had in his anger forgotten: You knew this already. There is nothing to be agitated about. Be still.

The boy stilled.

“Kill him?” Zhang Yu was saying, his tone casual. Kaixuan imagined him standing tall in his dark palace robes, his narrow face as smooth and cold as stone. He would be flicking some imaginary dust off his long, wide sleeves while looking at Liang Jin with a sideways glance, as he did with those he considered beneath his contempt. Which was, basically, everyone—even his emperor. “Of course we’ll kill him,” Zhang Yu continued. “But now is not yet the right time.”

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Verlag
G.P.Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers'
Erscheinungsdatum
2026
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 13 
9798217005086
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
304
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Verantwortliche Person
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