The world that made the Yizhi puzzle: education, play, and reform in late Qing and Republican China

In late imperial China, the prevailing pedagogical landscape was profoundly shaped by a Neo-Confucian worldview that often treated children not as beings with unique developmental needs, but as “miniature adults” (Bai Reference Bai2005, 41). A child was thought to possess a latent “adult” within, and the purpose of education was not to cater to the transient needs of childhood but to hasten the emergence of this fully formed moral self (Xiong Reference Xiong2008, 38). Children were dressed in adult-style clothing, held to adult behavioral standards, and subjected early on to rigorous training in the Four Books and Five Classics. Childhood was not a phase to be experienced but a deficiency to be overcome, with praise reserved for “mature” children who quickly assimilated into the adult-dominated world.

This adult-centric philosophy found its ultimate institutional expression in the civil service examination system, which dominated the intellectual and social life of the elite. Anchored in the dictum “by excelling in learning, one becomes an official” (xue er you ze shi 學而優則仕), the system turned education into a highly utilitarian pursuit. Years of arduous, solitary study were devoted to mastering a rigid curriculum and the highly stylized “eight-legged essay” (bagu wen 八股文), privileging rote memorization and textual fidelity over critical thinking, creativity, or practical knowledge (Chang Reference Chang1955, 198; Lee Reference Lee2000, 160; Bai Reference Bai2019, 55). The resulting ideal was what Xiong Bingzhen has described as a quiet and withdrawn “bookworm”: a boy who “lacked interest in play, had few friends, and rarely engaged in outdoor or physical activities,” his natural inclinations systematically suppressed in the name of scholarly success (Xiong Reference Xiong2008, 114–115).

By the mid-nineteenth century, as the Qing dynasty grappled with internal rebellion and foreign aggression, this educational paradigm came under unprecedented scrutiny. The disconnect between the abstract scholasticism of the examination halls and the urgent needs of the state became painfully apparent. Reform-minded thinkers such as Wang Tao 王韜 (1828–1897) and Feng Guifen 馮桂芬 (1809–1874) launched searing critiques, arguing that the “contemporary-style essay” (shiwen 時文) had little to do with the Confucian ideal of “inner sageliness and outer kingliness” (neisheng waiwang zhi xue 內聖外王之學) or with governing the state and strengthening the military. Instead, they concluded, the examination system had long been fundamentally “useless” (wuyong 無用), having “corrupted the talent of the empire, rather than creating it,” and producing scholars ill-equipped to face a rapidly changing world (Wang Reference Wang2002, 6; Feng Reference Feng2002, 37).

These discourses helped catalyze tentative reforms during the Self-Strengthening Movement (ziqiang yundong 自強運動) of the 1860s and 1870s. While the movement focused primarily on military and industrial modernization, its leaders recognized that new technologies required new kinds of knowledge. New-style institutions such as the Tongwen Guan 同文館 (School of Combined Learning) in Beijing and similar schools in Guangzhou and Shanghai introduced Western languages, mathematics, and science, legitimizing forms of knowledge that lay outside the classical texts (Fairbank Reference Fairbank1980, 162). Although small in scale and serving a narrow elite, these schools signaled a crucial crack in the monolithic structure of examination-centered pedagogy and created a climate in which alternative educational ideas could begin to germinate – even as the old system continued to dominate most children’s lives.

If the crisis in formal education created a perceived need for new pedagogical tools, the complex and often contradictory cultural status of play provided an unexpected opening for innovation. In what follows, “play” is used as a modern analytical category to discuss activities that combine amusement with cultivation. Premodern Chinese texts, however, employ a range of terms – such as you 遊 and xi 嬉 / xi 戲 – that do not map directly onto this notion, and historical evaluations of pleasurable activities were far from monolithic. Classical texts, in fact, offered a clear endorsement of certain forms of cultivated enjoyment. The Record on the Subject of Education (Xueji) advised that a virtuous student should find moments to “enjoy himself” (you) in his studies (Dai Reference Dain.d.), while the Analects famously included “taking recreation in the polite arts” (you yu yi 遊於藝) as one of the four pillars of a gentleman’s cultivation (The Analects of Confucius, Reference Lunyu1968, 331). In these early contexts, you refers to a mode of leisurely self-cultivation rather than to “play” in the modern pedagogical sense. Cultivated leisure and esthetic engagement were understood as an integral part of moral development, not its antithesis.

Over subsequent centuries, and particularly with the rise of Song Neo-Confucianism, this holistic view was overshadowed by a more ascetic and utilitarian mindset. The dictum attributed to Han Yu 韓愈 (768–842), “diligence leads to success, while idleness leads to failure” (ye jingyu qin, huang yuxi 業精於勤, 荒於嬉), became a foundational principle of education (Reference Hann.d., 308). Wang Yinglin 王應麟 (1223–1296) codified this sentiment in the immensely popular Trimetrical Classic, which bluntly stated: “Diligence has merit, while play has no advantage” (qin yougong, xi wuyi 勤有功, 戲無益) (Reference Wang2003, 111). Here, xi 嬉／xi 戲 denotes frivolous diversion that directly competes with study, in contrast to the cultivated you 遊 of earlier texts, even though both are rendered as “play” in this article for analytical convenience. This maxim became deeply ingrained in the cultural psyche, shaping social norms and parental expectations. As reflected in works like Dream of the Red Mansions, where the protagonist is chastised for allowing play to interfere with his studies (Cao & Gao, Reference Cao and Gao2003, 147), and in popular idioms celebrating extreme diligence like “tying one’s hair on the house beam and jabbing one’s side with an awl” (tou xuanliang, zhui cigu 頭懸樑, 錐刺股),Footnote ⁴ play was increasingly framed as a wasteful and dangerous distraction from the serious business of preparing for the examinations. As the scholar Kinney (Reference Kinney1995, 12) succinctly summarizes, a pervasive “dim view of play” came to dominate late imperial China.

Yet this dominant narrative was never the whole story. A minority tradition among literati continued to value certain forms of play for their capacity to nurture wisdom and character. The Ming philosopher Wang Shouren 王守仁 (1472–1529), for instance, offered a remarkably child-centered perspective, arguing that “the nature of children is to enjoy play and be wary of strict constraints,” and that true learning happens when their “inner joy” (zhongxin xiyue 中心喜悅) is nurtured (Reference Wang1933, 104–105). More broadly, an elite culture of “elegant play” developed around intellectual games that demanded wit, memory, and creativity. One particularly sophisticated strand within this culture was a lineage of dissection and combination puzzles. Over centuries, artisans and literati experimented with modular forms ranging from the Song dynasty’s Banquet Tables (yanjitu 燕幾圖) and the Ming dynasty’s Butterfly Tables (diejitu 蝶幾圖) to the Tangram (qiqiaoban 七巧板), which became a global phenomenon in the early nineteenth century (Huang, Reference Huang1985; Ge, Reference Gen.d., 435; Slocum Reference Slocum2022, 20–39).Footnote ⁵ This rich, if niche, intellectual heritage – one that discovered profound geometric and creative potential within play – provided the immediate ancestry for Tong Xiegeng’s own creation.

Into this complex milieu of educational crisis and ambivalent attitudes toward play stepped Tong Xiegeng. He was not a radical outsider but a product of the system he sought to reform, a figure uniquely positioned at the intersection of tradition and innovation. Born into a family with a legacy of public service, Tong was deeply influenced by his father, Tong Licheng 童立成 (fl. 19th c.), an official so renowned for his integrity that he was affectionately nicknamed “Tong Qingtian” 童青天 (the honest and upright official Tong) (Shanghaishi difangzhi bangongshi 上海市地方誌辦公室 & Shanghaishi Chongmingxian dang’anju 上海市崇明縣檔案局, 2011, vol. 2, 1385). Although Tong Xiegeng himself entered officialdom through purchase (juanna 捐納), a common practice at the time, his career was marked by the same practical-mindedness and moral rectitude. He successfully regulated the chaotic salt market in his hometown, organized local defense against pirates, and earned a reputation for compassionate justice (Shanghaishi difangzhi bangongshi, 2011, vol. 2, 1721; vol. 3, 1251). His eventual dismissal in 1888, for refusing to bribe superiors, cemented his image as a man of principle, an insider who experienced the system’s failings firsthand (Shanghaishi difangzhi bangongshi, 2011, vol. 3, 1816).

Crucially, Tong was not just an official; he was a passionate practitioner of the very “elegant play” that offered an alternative to the sterile examination culture. After his dismissal, he retired to Suzhou and immersed himself in intellectual and artistic pursuits. He was a master of various literary games that required immense creativity and erudition, composing intricate riddles,Footnote ⁶ creating thousands of shizhong 詩鐘,Footnote ⁷ and becoming one of the most prolific authors of palindrome poems (huiwenshi 回文詩) in Chinese history.Footnote ⁸ This deep engagement with intellectual games provided the fertile ground for his own innovation. According to his own account, the catalyst for the yizhi puzzle was a moment of serendipity: watching children joyfully fold paper and play cat’s cradle, he was struck by their seemingly inexhaustible creativity (Tong Reference Tong1933). This, combined with his dissatisfaction with the limitations of the popular Tangram, which he felt had too few pieces and patterns, motivated him to create a new, more versatile puzzle (Tong Reference Tong1933).

Although the earliest intention of the yizhi puzzle books was leisure, Tong and his family quickly began to embed educational principles, turning the puzzle into a tool for “developing the mind” (kaifa xinzhi 開發心智) (Tong Reference Tong1933). The Chinese name of Tong’s puzzle, 益智圖, is indicative of this core aim. Yi 益 can be translated as “benefit” or “advantage,” while zhi 智 refers to “intelligence” or “wisdom,” the ability to think and reason. Tong repeatedly emphasizes in his books that while this is a game (sui shu youyi 雖屬遊戲), the textual expressions found in these associated books should not be dismissed as insignificant (bimo weike shiwei xiaodao ye 筆墨未可視為小道也) (Tong Reference Tong1924). In other words, he explicitly framed the yizhi puzzle as a form of serious learning disguised as play.

Tong’s puzzle attracted a wide-ranging audience, spanning gender and age. Women were explicitly included among the intended users: in Yizhi xutu (Tong Reference Tong1924), he described the yizhi puzzle as a pastime for intellectuals and accomplished women from wealthy families. Children likewise fell naturally within the target readership. The origin story of Yizhi zitu traces the book to his son’s handwriting practice, where the puzzle aided the development of his calligraphy (Zhu Reference Zhu1924). While the immediate cause of Yizhitu qianziwen emerged from a challenge posed by a friend, its prototype, the Thousand-Character Classic, had long been central to traditional children’s education (Lü Reference Lü1991, 55).

While Tong Xiegeng is credited with inventing the yizhi puzzle, its development and the series of yizhi puzzle books were collaborative family enterprises. His wife, Zhu Meijun 祝梅君, authored Yizhi zitu, and their five sons competed to create new patterns. Tong was also a culturally astute producer who understood the potential of print culture and a burgeoning market for educational materials. He actively sought publication, first through Renyourong Zhai 任有容齋 in Hangzhou, and his legacy was later amplified by his son Tong Hao 童暠 (1873–1953), who collaborated with the Commercial Press (Shangwu yinshuguan 商務印書館) in Shanghai to reprint the yizhi series multiple times to meet substantial demand.Footnote ⁹

Tong wrote that Yizhitu became so widely loved that many of his friends from Minqiao 閩嶠 (now in Fujian Province) to Youyan 幽燕 (now in Hebei Province and Liaoning Province) borrowed it repeatedly (1933). As the yizhi puzzle spread, it was increasingly institutionalized as a legitimate educational tool in Republican China. It was officially recognized as an appropriate toy for students and widely used as a prize in primary and secondary schools. In 1915, with the approval of the Ministry of Education of the Nanjing National Government, the Commercial Press edition of the yizhi puzzle book series was sanctioned for use as school prizes in recognition of academic achievement (Pi Tong Danian yizhitu liuce ji yizhi tuban yifu zhunzuowei xuexiao jiangpin yuanshu ji tuban cunbu beian, 1915). By the late 1920s, the series had gained such popularity that it was listed among “ideal children’s books and educational games” (Jiupan weidao zhi ertong duwu ji jiaoyu youxipin, 1929), encouraging the Commercial Press to reprint the books and even publish a volume on English-language subject matter titled English Alphabets and Figures Constructed with the Puzzle Square Footnote ¹⁰ . The puzzle was even recommended for cultivating the creativity of Scouts (Liu Reference Liu1940, 84–85). At the same time, educational psychologists adopted the yizhi puzzle as a non-verbal testing instrument, using timed assembly of wooden pieces to assess children’s intelligence (Chen Reference Chen1947, 8; Chen Reference Chen1948, 59). It also played an important role in family education, as Republican-era writers praised it as a wholesome form of shared entertainment that promoted children’s health, sustained their interest by limiting the number of patterns shown each day, and allowed parents to guide rather than suppress children’s innate desire to play (Xu Reference Xu1931, 102; Fan and Wang Reference Fan and Wang1933, 8; Zhang Reference Zhang1946, 287–288).

Tong Xiegeng thus emerges as a distinctive figure for his time: a reform-minded official shaped by the statecraft tradition, a literati artist steeped in the culture of “elegant play,” a child-centered innovator inspired by everyday life, and an innovator with an entrepreneurial spirit leveraging print technology. He synthesized the era’s anxieties about education and its enduring fascination with intellectual play into a tangible product. The yizhi puzzle was his private, creative, and ultimately commercial response to the national call for a more effective and relevant form of learning, embodying a new vision where wisdom (zhi 智) could be cultivated through joy.

A new vessel for old wine: the Yizhi puzzle’s content and didactic designs

Yizhi puzzle was born from its creator’s direct dissatisfaction with the formal limitations of its famous predecessor, the Tangram. While the Tangram was immensely popular, Tong Xiegeng perceived critical weaknesses in its design: a shortage of available blocks and a scarcity of choreographed patterns (Tong Reference Tong1933). This perception drove him to fundamentally reimagine the puzzle, engineering a “new vessel” capable of carrying far more detailed and expressive content.

The first solution was a quantitative upgrade from seven to fifteen pieces. This expansion directly addressed the shortage of blocks, creating an exponential increase in combinatorial possibilities. The practical benefit of this was immediately apparent in the puzzle’s ability to represent complex forms. For instance, while both puzzles could be used to form Chinese characters, the greater number of pieces in the yizhi puzzle allowed for the construction of characters with more strokes and more intricate structures, moving beyond the simple ideograms possible with the Tangram.

However, the most revolutionary innovation – the one that truly distinguished the yizhi puzzle from all previous puzzles of its kind – was the introduction of curves. Tong’s design specifically incorporated pieces with non-linear edges: four congruent right-angled pentagons with inner arcs and two congruent semicircles. This seemingly simple addition liberated the puzzle from the purely rectilinear world of the Tangram. The effect was transformative, enhancing the vibrancy and realism of the designs. A stark example can be seen in the depiction of the character “flying” (fei 飛). A Tangram construction of this concept results in a rigid, angular shape, an abstract symbol of flight (see Figure 3). In contrast, the yizhi puzzle version, utilizing its curved pieces to form a bird’s rounded belly, creates a vivid, lifelike representation of an actual bird in flight (see Figure 4).

Figure 3.

Depictions of the character Fei (Flying) using tangram. Source (Reprinted from Biwu Jushi, Reference Biwu1813, 41a.).

Figure 4.

An image of Feihe (Flying crane) formed by the Yizhi puzzle Footnote ¹² . Source (The pattern on the left is reprinted from Tong [Reference Tong1933, 28a]. The pattern on the right is assembled by the author).

This leap from geometric abstraction to pictorial representation was the functional heart of Tong’s project. He had not redesigned the puzzle for mere esthetic improvement, but to make it a more effective teaching tool. He drew from the vast repository of Chinese culture – its philosophy, history, literature, and ethics – and carefully filtered, adapted, and organized it into a series of books for a child. An analytical framework focusing on three educational dimensions (intellectual, moral, and esthetic), although not a formal tripartite structure in traditional Chinese education, provides a useful lens for understanding the series’ educational appeal in the late Qing and Republican period.

First of all, playing the yizhi puzzle can greatly enhance children’s intellectual development by providing them with knowledge in various disciplines, including Chinese characters, poetry, geometry, and history. For example, Yizhi zitu comprises 150 patterns based on Chinese characters, each with its own distinctive features and accompanied by concise explanations. Among them, the pattern for the character feng 风 (wind) is accompanied by the following annotation, from the Zhuangzi: dakuai yiqi, qi ming wei feng 大塊噫氣, 其名為風Footnote ¹¹ (see Figure 5).

Figure 5.

The character Feng (Wind) formed in Yizhi zitu. Source (The pattern on the left is reprinted from Zhu Reference Zhu1924, 26b. The pattern on the right is assembled by the author).

In the above pattern, the curved part in the middle can be seen as the breath coming out of the mouth. From another perspective, the overall shape depicts a person standing between two boulders, bent over as if being buffeted by the wind. This combination vividly captures the essence of “wind” and facilitates easy understanding. Yizhi zitu also features numerous explanations from other classical works of traditional China, such as The Analects of Confucius, The Classic of Poetry, Tao Te Ching, and so on. The meticulous selection of these examples demonstrates the author’s careful attention to the classic works. Moreover, Yizhitu qianziwen, which is based on the Thousand-Character Classic, a renowned book for teaching children basic Chinese characters, enables readers to systematically learn Chinese characters while engaging with the yizhi puzzle.

There are 63 assorted lines of famous poetry in the first volume of Yizhitu. The selected verses mainly consist of works from the Tang and Song dynasties, accounting for 50% and 25% respectively. The reasons for this choice are quite clear. During the Tang and Song periods, Chinese poetry reached remarkable heights, characterized by profound artistic expression, rich cultural significance, and enduring literary value. The poets of this era were masters of language, adept at capturing the essence of human emotions, nature’s beauty, and the complexities of life. Their works have stood the test of time, influencing generations of poets and leaving an indelible mark on Chinese literature (Watson Reference Watson1971, 109–224; Mair Reference Mair2001, 274–313, 337–369; Owen Reference Owen2006; Fuller Reference Fuller2017). It is important to highlight that Tang poetry started being integrated into the elementary school curriculum in the Mid-Tang Dynasty. One of the factors behind this is the traditional Chinese belief that children could acquire the skill of composing poetry through the memorization of poems (Bai Reference Bai2005, 43). In this sense, Tong Xiegeng adopted the same strategy, since the poems selected in Yizhitu were well known and not difficult to understand. By immersing themselves in the game, players are subtly influenced to appreciate and learn these famous poems, fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation of Chinese literature and philosophy.

Yizhi yanjitu is closely tied to geometric knowledge. Without the guidance provided in the later Yizhi yanjitu fuben, which includes red horizontal lines to assist readers in avoiding confusion, it is difficult to determine the precise locations of arcs, semicircles, and angles. Moreover, the series of yizhi puzzle books offers readers a unique opportunity to gain historical knowledge.Footnote ¹³ For example, in the late Qing dynasty, an American missionary working at Peking University was entrusted by a friend to investigate the effects of different Chinese children’s games. He found that a high-ranking official’s son had a keen interest in the yizhi puzzle and could skillfully arrange it to depict a hippopotamus and a Luo turtle, associating them with the traditional Chinese stories of Fu Xi 伏羲 and Yu the Great 大禹 (Headland Reference Headland1901, 116–117).Footnote ¹⁴ This implies that players, while playing with this toy, are also subtly learning about the historical background behind the examples. It should also be noted that examples of Chinese historical and cultural allusions in the first volume of Yizhitu are classic stories of famous figures in traditional China, such as Zhang Liang 張良 (?–186 BCE), who was a renowned Chinese military strategist and politician who lived in the early Western Han dynasty, and Mi Fu 米芾 (1051–1107), who was a celebrated painter, poet, and calligrapher during the Song Dynasty. While some of these allusions may have been embellished over time, their origins trace back to classic works and have been passed down through generations, lending them a certain historical value.

The core of Tong’s educational project, however, was moral cultivation. The patterns’ titles are a gallery of virtues: personal loyalty to the nation and country is shown in haishang kanyang shijiunian 海上看羊十九年;Footnote ¹⁵ integrity and incorruptibility is highlighted by yiqin yihe 一琴一鶴,Footnote ¹⁶ chu yuni er buran, zhuo qinglian er buyao 出淤泥而不染，濯清漣而不妖, which is attributed to Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073),Footnote ¹⁷ and xingzhi ze yingzheng, xingwang ze yingqu 形直則影正，形枉則影曲;Footnote ¹⁸ perseverance and hard work are taught through Che Wu nangying 車武囊螢,Footnote ¹⁹ Sun Kang yingxue 孫康映雪,Footnote ²⁰ and Suiyue dushu 隨月讀書;Footnote ²¹ respecting others is encouraged by Yiqiao jinlü 圯橋進履,Footnote ²² the annotation to the pattern “pear” (li 梨) in Yizhi xutu,Footnote ²³ and jisuo buyu, wushi yu ren 己所不欲，勿施於人;Footnote ²⁴ loyalty and courage are embodied in Mulan congjun 木蘭從軍;Footnote ²⁵ Wenji gui Han 文姬歸漢Footnote ²⁶ and Hong Xian daohe 紅線盜盒;Footnote ²⁷ the importance of mutual respect between husband and wife is illustrated by the idiom Ju’an qimei 舉案齊眉.Footnote ²⁸ Through these puzzles, abstract virtues were anchored to memorable stories and physical actions. For instance, the act of building Mulan was an act of internalizing her story and, by extension, her virtues.

Perhaps Tong Xiegeng’s most forward-thinking contribution was his integration of esthetic education. He understood that a well-rounded individual must possess a refined sensibility for beauty. He cultivated this first by encouraging the discovery of beauty in the everyday, with puzzles depicting common objects like teapots and lanterns, teaching children to see the elegant lines within them. For example, Yizhitu includes a variety of daily necessities, while Yizhi xutu encompasses a diverse range of elements, including plants, flowers, fruits, vegetables, birds, beasts, fish, and insects. Second, he introduced children to the world of high art. A remarkable example is kanshanren zuo xiyangchuan 看山人坐夕陽船 (1933, 12a), a direct adaptation of a famous ink painting by the Qing master Wu Shixian 吳石仙 (1845–1916) (see Figure 6) (2005, 55). Tong deconstructed the complex painting into its essential components, asking the child to capture its spirit (shensi 神似) rather than its literal form (xingsi 形似). This was a brilliant method of making elite art accessible and understandable, training the child’s eye to see like an artist. Moreover, it should be noted that Tong skillfully showcases each character in the Thousand-Character Classic using a variety of calligraphic styles, including regular script, running script, and cursive script.

Figure 6.

An example of a simplified picture in Yizhitu based on a famous drawingFootnote ²⁹. Source (The pattern on the left is reprinted from Tong [Reference Tong1933, 12a]. The pattern on the right is reprinted from Wu [Reference Wu2005, 55].).

The medium as the message: image, play, and an emerging child-centered pedagogy

The genius of the series of yizhi puzzle lies not just in its rich content, but in its core teaching method: the synergy of text and image, or tuwen jiehe 圖文結合. Tong Xiegeng faced a fundamental design challenge: how could fifteen simple blocks possibly represent the complexity of a landscape painting or the narrative depth of a classical poem? His solution was not to make the image do all the work, but to create a powerful partnership between the pattern’s title (the text) and its assembled form (the image). This method transforms the learning experience. Consider the puzzle titled zhangli xiejiu kan zhishan 杖藜攜酒看芝山, a line from a classical poem. A child reading this line is presented with a rich, literary scene. The puzzle itself does not depict the entire scene in detail; instead, it provides the “key visual imagery”: pieces for the scholar, his staff, the wine pot, and the mountain (see Figure 7).

Figure 7.

A pattern formed to visualize Zhangli xiejiu kan zhishan in Yizhitu. Source (The pattern on the left is reprinted from Tong [Reference Tong1933, 8a]. The pattern on the right is assembled by the author).

The cognitive magic happens in the space between text and image. The text provides the narrative and context, while the hands-on process of assembling the puzzle forces the child to identify and construct the core subjects of that narrative. When the puzzle is complete, the image and text confirm one another. The abstract characters of the poem are now anchored to a concrete, physical form that the child has built with their own hands, and their mind actively bridges the gap, filling in the details. Ultimately, this synergy of text and image is what elevates the yizhi puzzle from a mere pastime to a sophisticated pedagogical tool. It shifts the child from being a passive recipient of information, forced to memorize texts, into an active constructor of meaning. The learning process becomes a hands-on exploration, a problem to be solved, and a story to be built. In doing so, Tong Xiegeng crafted an educational experience that was not only effective but also deeply joyful, a quiet but profound innovation in the landscape of late Qing education. The key visual imagery of the poetry and literary allusions of Yizhitu can be summarized into seven categories: natural landscapes, figures, actions, objects, architecture, plants, and animals. Natural landscapes include the sun, the moon, water (including rivers, lakes, seas, and pools), and mountains. Figures include children, men, and women.

As the series developed, from Yizhitu to Yizhitu qianziwen, the importance of imagery relative to text increases. The text of Yizhitu consists of traditional Chinese poetry, allusions, and classical passages. In Yizhi xutu, it solely comprises Chinese classical passages, with relatively longer word counts. In Yizhi zitu, the text also consists of Chinese classical sentences with a relatively large number of words. In contrast, Yizhi yanjitu adopts a minimalist approach with four-word titles. These concise titles capture the essence of the content, allowing readers to grasp the main themes at a glance. Yizhitu qianziwen is comprised entirely of images, devoid of any textual annotations.

There is a gradual reduction in textual explanations throughout Tong’s books, particularly from the first book, Yizhitu, to the final book, Yizhitu qianziwen. In the first few books, the side notes are abundant, sometimes even surpassing the number of patterns. However, in Yizhitu qianziwen, the example does not include textual explanations. This deliberate shift indicates Tong and his family’s increased focus on the significance of pictures in the learning process.

This tendency of emphasizing images was quite prevalent in the late Qing dynasty. Publications such as Dianshizhai Pictorial (Dianshizhai huabao 點石齋畫報) and Enlightenment Pictorial (Qimeng huabao 啟蒙畫報) served as prime illustrations of this phenomenon (Chen Reference Chen2018). In the nineteenth century, with the popularization of public education in Europe and America, the reading population experienced tremendous growth. At the same time, the emergence of technological advancements such as photography, printing, gas lamps, electric lights, steamships, and so on provided people with greater opportunities and improved conditions for reading. Changes in reading methods, reading materials, and reading habits intensified the viewers’ demand for images corresponding to the text. With the maturation of printing technology, from the birth of photography in 1837 to the appearance of movies and projectors in 1895, the world gradually entered a new era of images (Liu Reference Liu2015). Under the influence of the ideology of pragmatism, Chinese people became aware of the importance of technology. As a result, they initiated a series of movements aimed at improving China’s level of technology and adopting Western technologies.Footnote ³⁰ This, in turn, led to a growing emphasis on images among the Chinese population. As Kang Youwei 康有為 (1858–1927) put it, “Nowadays, all trades and industries rely on images (jin gongshang baiqi jie jieyuhua 今工商百器皆籍於畫). Without improvement in imagery (hua bu gaijin 畫不改進), there is nothing to be said about trades and industries (gongshang wu keyan 工商無可言). This is why I, a humble person, hold a deep appreciation for imagery and engage in discussions about it (cize biren canghua, lunhua zhiyi 此則鄙人藏畫, 論畫之意)” (Kang Reference Kang1977, 9–10). It was precisely the need to enhance technology that prompted people to value images, ultimately propelling late Qing society into the “era of global images.”

In pedagogy, the incorporation of images alongside text significantly enhances the quality of learning, especially for children, as pictures have a captivating effect on their attention. Considering children’s limited literacy skills, an excessive number of complex characters can lead to disinterest and difficulty in sustaining focus during the learning process. The combining of pictures and text is a characteristic of children’s books, but also encompasses various formats such as books, magazines, and newspapers. As Chen Pingyuan said, “Compared to intricate or abstract texts, images are more intuitive, vivid, tangible, and accessible when it comes to conveying knowledge and expressing viewpoints” (2018, 57). Within these “visual languages,” pictures, including illustrations, photography, icons, and symbols, play an indispensable role (Li et al. Reference Li, Li and Zhu2008, 1–3).

Firstly, pictures possess the ability to capture children’s attention effectively. The juxtaposition of pictures and words allows for the amalgamation of abstract and figurative elements, which tends to be more captivating for children. For instance, the subjects in Yizhi zitu and Yizhitu qianziwen are abstract, while their patterns are figurative. When children explore these patterns, they engage in the process of learning by deciphering the strokes of each Chinese character. While traditional China did have literary primers with illustrations for children as discussed earlier, Tong Xiegeng’s puzzle and books go a step further. This educational toy not only provides children with a visual understanding of the pictures but also empowers them to actively explore and demonstrate how the puzzle pieces can be combined through engaging in hands-on interaction.

Secondly, pictures serve the purpose of visually representing the textual content, aiding children with limited literacy skills in comprehending the conveyed information. The series of yizhi puzzle books often revolves around idioms, allusions, and poems, some of which may pose challenges for children’s comprehension. However, the integration of the fifteen puzzle pieces helps children grasp the meaning by deepening their understanding of these idioms, allusions, and poems. Literacy education was important to children’s education in traditional China. According to Wang Yun 王筠 (1784–1854), during the period of childhood nurturing, prioritizing literacy is essential (mengyang zhishi, shizi weixian 蒙養之時, 識字為先) (Reference Wang1985, 1). Compared with the earliest literacy textbooks, Shi Zho pian 史籀篇 and Cang Jie pian 倉頡篇 (Ban Reference Ban1962, 1721),Footnote ³¹ as well as the popular primers in the Qing dynasty, such as Youxue gushi qionglin 幼學故事瓊林 (Cheng and Zou Reference Cheng and Zou2019) and Longwen bianying 龍文鞭影 (Xiao Reference Xiao1986), Tong’s books provide a full explanation of the texts with the help of his puzzle, which greatly contributes to enhancing children’s literacy skills. Meanwhile, Tong’s puzzle offers players an opportunity to enhance their understanding of geometry through diverse puzzles featuring various shapes that are both visible and tactile. According to Bai Limin’s research, traditional Chinese mathematics did not have specialized terminology for the symbols used in contemporary mathematics, relying instead on Chinese characters to represent mathematical concepts (2005, 137–148). One notable advantage of Tong’s puzzle lies in its integration of visual instruction with language education, effectively transforming abstract geometric forms into tangible realities.

Lastly, the combination of image and text has both esthetic and intellectual impacts on children. The pictures within the series of yizhi puzzle books are visually appealing, characterized by clarity and distinct features. For instance, in the pattern zaobi touguang (see Figure 8), the protagonist is depicted as bent over, facing a wall, engrossed in reading a book. The missing piece of the wall signifies the transmission of light. The protagonist’s distinctive features are outlined with just a few strokes, subtly cultivating children’s esthetic perception and stimulating their imaginative capabilities. Simultaneously, children can expand their vocabulary through the accompanying side notes, enhancing their literacy efficiency with the aid of pictures.

Figure 8.

The proverb Zaobi touguang in Yizhitu. Source (The pattern on the left is reprinted from Tong [Reference Tong1933, 26b]. The pattern on the right is assembled by the author).