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Fire Between Two Skies

By R F. Whong

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Even in October, humidity seeped in. In the sea of pedestrians with face masks, Jason Guan trudged ahead. The city hadn’t been the same since the pandemic. Being a Realtor after he lost his job as an assistant supervisor for the Mai Po wetland conservation turned out to be tougher than he’d anticipated. The property market had become a temple. Some arrived to worship, others to offer sacrifices, while most lingered at the margins. The value of stability spiraled into abstraction.
He ducked into Le Jardin, a French café everyone Instagrammed. It had just reopened. Inside, the scent of baked croissants swirled around.
In the corner window, a woman sat, poised as if she were a sculpture poured into a tailored charcoal suit, all clean angles and an odd, quiet gravity. The hairs along Jason’s arms lifted. Instincts prickled. His mind skidded from face to memory to name while the rest of him stood there like an idiot. He stared too long. Time kinked. “Vivian Jiang?” The name scraped out before he knew it.
She looked up from her phone. Her jaw dropped. “Jason Guan?”
How many years had it been? Ten? Longer? He stepped forward.
Vivian stood, graceful and confident, but a tautness coiled behind that poise, as if she were ready to spring. He touched his chin. An old image from his high school days at the Methodist Academy flashed in his mind. Didn’t she always hide at the back of the class?
Now, her presence soaked into the café like spilled wine, dark, intoxicating.
“Vivian.” He rediscovered his smile. “It’s been forever.”
“I recognized you despite your face mask. Your eyes gave you away. You were voted the guy with the most gorgeous eyes, for obvious reasons.” She gestured to the seat across from her. “Sit. You’re not in a hurry to go somewhere, are you?”
He lowered his face mask and settled opposite her. “I’m a Realtor. In real estate, it’s hustle or starve. Aren’t you working in China now? You in Hong Kong for business?”
“Yeah, business.” Her immaculate red nails tapped against her coffee cup. “I almost didn’t believe it when I saw you, the top student in our class. Life has been good to you?”
“Good, yes.” A server swung by, and Jason ordered a cappuccino. “Married, working hard. The city’s not easy.”
She leaned forward, a single eyebrow arched. “Married already? To anyone I know?”
“Debra Gong.” Warmth crept into his chest. “She’s a PhD student at Chinese U, studying biochemistry.”
Vivian chuckled, a self-assured sound. “Leave it to the class prince. I often thought you’d marry a princess.” She sipped her espresso. “Do you have pictures to show me?”
He woke his phone and turned the screen toward her. “Our wedding picture.”
She studied the photo. “Did you have a double wedding during the pandemic using Zoom?” She squinted. “I have to say, your wife is more beautiful than a princess. Large, luminous eyes. Full lips. Men will remember a face like hers, stunning, dangerous. I hope you can keep up.”
He ignored her remarks and flicked through more images before stopping. “Here is our wedding invitation. ‘Maggie Cheung marries Brian Guan and Debra Gong marries Jason Guan.’ Maggie Cheung is my mother-in-law. She married my uncle, Brian Guan.”
“Must have been a splendid event.” She glanced at it again, then raised her coffee for a slow sip. “You still in touch with classmates?”
The gesture showed off the impeccable embroidery on her sleeve and the expensive watch with its understated black leather band. Was it a Patek Philippe Grand? He tucked his phone away. “A reunion once a year, when we’re not all running around. Hong Kong feels smaller nowadays.”
“Doesn’t it?” Her Cantonese sounded slightly accented, as if she’d lived somewhere else long enough to borrow vowels. “I expect to stay for a while if I find the right place.”
His Realtor instincts perked up. “Are you moving to Hong Kong?”
“Not quite. I run a biotech company on the mainland. But I need a refuge. Something discreet and spacious. Overlooking Victoria Harbour. Cash, of course.”
She placed a slim silver business card on the table, embossed with a government emblem in gold.
He checked the title—Sinogene Pharmatech Holdings. General Manager. Vivian Jiang. “You’re running a state-owned enterprise?”
A twitch in her jaw returned her lips back to a line that no laughter could smooth. “Yeah. A SOE.”
Was this the same nervous girl with oversized glasses asking him for chemistry notes? What kind of metamorphosis had she undergone, and at what price?
His mind flitted over giant towers in Mid-Levels with unobstructed harbor views and penthouses that could swallow up the entire complex where his apartment belonged. “You want to buy? No mortgage, straight cash?”
She stared into his eyes. “No mortgage. Money isn’t an issue.”
The word, a kind of invitation and declaration code in this city, hung in the air. He steadied his voice. “There are a few options. Do you have a budget you’d like to stick to?”
“My only budget is time. I trust your judgment.” She flashed a wry smile. “Do you miss the past?”
“Sometimes.” He shivered at the memories. The tragic car accident that claimed his parents’ lives when he turned ten, the way Grandpa stepped in to raise him, how he studied hard to make Grandpa proud… “Those years were complicated.”
She nudged her cup aside. “Complications are inevitable. But never mind. Is it possible for you to show me a few places this week?”
His phone rang. Debra was checking in from home. He texted her a brief reply. All’s well. Running into a classmate. Will tell you tonight.
Vivian leaned closer. “From your wife? I envy scientists who strive for a better life for all of us.”
“Aren’t you running a biotech company?” He stowed his phone away.
She shrugged. “I’m running a company. Period.”
“What an answer!” He tipped his head back. “You don’t sound excited.”
She straightened and smoothed her tailored suit. “Passion is for researchers. Vision is for survivors.” Her gaze lingered on him. “I’ve learned what it takes to win and where the bodies are buried.”
“You still need to know the science, right?” He raked his hair with a hand.
Her confident smile wavered. The shy girl from their past peeked through.
“Just enough not to blow myself up.” She dipped her voice. “So, are you going to help me?”
His heart thumped. The four-bedroom, three-bath penthouse on Garden Road, priced at over a hundred million HK dollars, he’d seen this morning might suit her. “Of course. It’s an honor to help an old friend.”
“You’re a good man, Jason.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Not many are left.”
Her phone vibrated. “Excuse me.” Her voice shifted into command, her Mandarin crisp. “Okay. I’ll be out in one minute.” She turned to Jason. “My driver’s waiting. Can you text me your listings?”
“I will.” He handed over his phone for her to type in her number. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
She put on her face mask. “Thanks a lot.”
When she swept out of the café, even the staff glanced at her. He drummed a finger on the tabletop, the rhythm keeping time with the strange unease tempering his nostalgia. Something odd hid behind her confidence. What was that?
His phone buzzed again, a reminder of an appointment he couldn’t afford to miss. He downed what was left of his coffee and stepped back into the city’s noisy current.
❈ ✧ ❈
Jason entered his apartment. The dusk flooded the living room with a row of honeyed rectangles. Debra curled up on the couch, her tablet and a cup of tea on the coffee table.
“Hey.” She straightened up. “Rough day?”
“Long day.” He dropped the keys and loosened his tie. “Guess who I ran into at Le Jardin?”
She cocked an eyebrow over the half smile on her lips. “Who? Our mutual friend?”
“Vivian Jiang. Have I ever mentioned her to you? We were in the same class in high school. She was shy, but bright.” He collapsed beside her. “Now she runs a biotech giant in China and asked me to find a luxury flat for her. Cash. No questions asked.”
“A request like that out of nowhere?” Debra touched her chin. “That’s not normal, is it? Money like that, so fast.”
Jason shook his head, anxiety creeping up. “Not normal at her age, anyway. She acted as if privacy were a matter of life or death. I can’t figure out if she’s hiding from something or someone.”
Tiny creases formed on her forehead. “You don’t have to get involved if something feels off.”
“For old times’ sake, I want to help her.” He rested his head on top of hers. “I also did a calculation before I came home. If I sell her the flat on Garden Road priced at a hundred and eight million HK dollars, with one percent of the transaction price from both seller and buyer, I’d pocket two point sixteen million. Not bad at all.”
Debra released a low whistle. “Two point sixteen million? That’s nearly three hundred grand in US dollars.”
Jason brushed his fingers along her cheek. “After living in Hong Kong for two years, you still automatically convert every amount into dollars.”
She chuckled, her breath warm on his skin. “It reminds me who I am.” She leaned back and drew her knees up to her chest. “Promise me, if anything about this isn’t right, you’ll walk away. No hesitation.”
His shoulders stiffened. “I promise.”
She grasped his hand. “Let’s pray for God’s wisdom.”
They bowed their heads, and she started in a steady tone. “Dear Lord, grant us Your wisdom and guide our decisions. If we stray from Your path, please protect and redirect us. Help us use whatever comes our way for good, for the sake of Your glory. And”—she squeezed his hand even tighter—“and for Vivian too. We pray she’ll have the opportunity to know You.”
Jason echoed her words. “Lord, I pray for clarity, for integrity. And no matter what happens, I’ll have the courage to do the right thing.”
When they finished, his mood shifted to something lighter. He cradled her face. “I don’t know why,” he murmured. “I missed you the second I left home. You’ve been on my mind all day.”
She giggled. “Dear Mr. Guan, we aren’t newlyweds anymore.”
Her laughter softened the sharp edges of the world outside. The glow from the lamp in the corner bathed her in gold. He nibbled her earlobe. “Well, Mrs. Guan, if you’re not a newlywed anymore, what are you?”
“Still yours.” She curved into him.
His lips found hers, gentle at first, then deeper. Debra’s arms slipped around his neck. He sketched the line of her spine, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.
Time dissolved. The rush in their lives—ambitions, negotiations, worries—vanished into obscurity, leaving only the thrum of hearts in sync.
She sighed, a sound muffled against his mouth. He drew away just far enough to look at her. “Shall we move to the bedroom?”
“Let’s stay here for a change,” she whispered.
He held her tight. The city lights danced through the thin curtains, yet none reached into their tenderness.
In the hush that followed, they lay on the sofa, her head on his chest. He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, and nodded toward the tablet on the coffee table. “What are you reading? A scientific paper?”
“You wouldn’t believe it.” She rolled onto her side to face him. “Even though Dad has been gone for a while, we discover something new every time we sort through his belongings. Uncle Brian and Mom went to the beach house on Cheung Chau Island yesterday and found another unpublished manuscript by Dad. This one is about the Taiping movement, the Heavenly Kingdom of Great Peace. Mom gave me a USB stick this morning, and I’ve copied it to my tablet.”
She grabbed the device and tapped it awake. Chinese characters appeared on the screen.
Jason’s eyes flickered, then widened. “Unbelievable.” His breath caught. He touched the bridge of his nose. “Must be a disturbing tale. The Taiping was the deadliest period in Chinese history. I learned about it in high school. Rebellion and danger at every turn. Many people died.”
“Yeah. I’ve read only a few chapters. The story drew me in already.” She held up the tablet. “Do you think faith alone can start a revolution?”
He stared at the ceiling. “I’ve forgotten most of the details about the Taiping. Still, the sense of dread is hard to forget. The pressure, the fear. Every whisper could be reported. I’m afraid our city is falling into that situation.”
Her mouth flattened into a thin line. “Strange how something from the 1850s China doesn’t seem so distant. People pressed from all directions. Leaders hunted by the strongest power.” A muscle ticked in her cheek. “Why don’t we read it together? Then we can discuss it.”
“I’d love to. Dad’s stories never disappoint.”
He took the tablet from her and swiped to the first chapter. The words stared back at him: Guangzhou, Guangdong, China. Summer 1845.
The chill of danger never quite faded, no matter the century.

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