Guest blog: Ruth Wong and Fire Between Two Skies *Gift to Everyone who Signs Up for her Newsletter (see at bottom)
- ChristinaSinisi-Author
- 1 day ago
- 10 min read
Dear Readers,
I hope you're getting ready for Christmas--I'd say I'm a little more than halfway there! Please join me in welcoming Ruth back--there was an error on my part and I double-booked one week so her post is later than she planned. Thank you all for being so good to our guests!
Introduce yourself—name, where you’re from, and something people notice when they meet you?
My name is Ruth Wuwong, originally from Hong Kong. Since a young age, I cultivated a profound love for reading and writing. I would spend hours at the library, devouring every book on a single shelf before moving on to the next. It seems I have a longing that can’t be satisfied by reality. Immersing myself in literature allows me to escape into worlds where I could become someone graceful, witty, and popular.
Currently, I work for a small biotech company and have published 120+ scientific books and papers. As a latecomer to the world of creative writing, I’ve released several books under different pen names. Fiction titles were published under R. F. Whong, while non-fiction books were published under Ruth Wuwong.
I’m married to my wonderful husband, a retired pastor who encourages me to pursue my dreams. We served together at three different churches from 1987 to 2020. Our adult son works in a nearby city.
Tell us about your book—title and back cover blurb.
My books tend to be serious. Fire Between Two Skies (Action/Adventure; Dual-time Odyssey Book 3, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G33N9DBT) is available for preorder at a special price of $2.99 and will be released on January 12, 2026. Book 1 in this series, Echoes over Stormy Sea (released on 12/17/2024) won two awards and was chosen by secular readers on Manybooks.net as one of the best books for January 2025 even though it has a strong Christian theme.
Here is some information about Fire Between Two Skies:
Words: 71,000
Blurb:
Two eras. One relentless quest for truth amid desires and temptation. Across the centuries, two men are bound by parallel destinies that echo through time. Book 3 of this dual-time odyssey delves deep into the passions and struggles that connect their worlds.
In 2022 Hong Kong, Jason Guan, after losing his job as an assistant supervisor for wetland conservation, joins his uncle’s real-estate business. A chance meeting with his high school classmate, Vivian Jiang, draws him into a web of secrecy, seduction, and moral compromise. Amid the chaos, he and his wife, Debra, read an unpublished manuscript by her father, a celebrated writer, about the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom (1851–1864) and a man’s futile pursuit of justice and peace on earth.
In nineteenth-century China, Zhang Xin, an orphan saved from the streets by Missionary Issachar Jacox Roberts, is swept into the fiery rebellion of the Taiping movement. Torn between the dream of a just kingdom, his forbidden love for Miao Lan, and his loyalty to his ruthless brother, Xin reckons with doubt, conscience, and the cost of faith.
When greed and exploitation eclipse justice, both men must navigate their respective perils. Will they prevail or be consumed?
4. Share an excerpt.
The elevator glided up. Jason checked his reflection in the mirrored panels, smoothed his hair, and tugged the lapel of his navy blazer. The bottle of Château Margaux he’d selected gleamed in its gift bag. Vivian’s housewarming party tonight would be a golden opportunity to procure new clients, and he intended to make the most of it.
The doors parted on the penthouse floor. The sleepless city stretched out under the milky moonlight. Victoria Harbour seemed to whisper a simple truth that it never belonged to anyone.
While Jason stepped over the threshold, a woman in white gloves—Vivian’s housekeeper?—accepted the wine, then disappeared out of sight. Muted jazz music and the subtle perfume of tropical lilies permeated the atmosphere.
He searched for the crowd. Yet the living room was empty, except for the hostess standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows in an emerald silk dress that clung to her voluptuous figure. Where were the bankers, lawyers, and tycoons?
Vivian turned, lips parting in an almost grin. “Jason, you made it. Welcome to my lair.”
Her shiny ebony hair was swept back, exposing her delicate neck. She moved with unconscious authority, spine straight, jaw angled as if daring anyone to underestimate her.
“Congratulations.” He shook hands with her. “You have a gorgeous place with a spectacular view.”
She approached a crystal decanter on a side table. “I should. I paid enough for it. And thank you again for helping me buy it.” She gestured to the sofa. “Sit, please. Let me get us a drink. I’ve just opened a bottle of 1990 Sassicaia. Only the best for tonight.”
His conscience tickled. He rubbed his chin. This was business, wasn’t it? He settled on the edge of the designer couch, half expecting the doorbell to ring and a dozen guests to pour in. But the apartment remained silent.
Vivian reached for the two glasses on the coffee table and poured the wine. “To new beginnings.” She offered a toast. Her gaze met his as if issuing a challenge.
He clinked his glass against hers. “To your new castle.”
She released a throaty laugh. “You think I’m a queen?”
“You act like one.” He braved a grin. “You’d have terrified my high school self.”
She swirled her wine. “High school. Feels far away, doesn’t it?” Her laughter faded. “It still surprises me how we have changed. And you, the top student, would be my only former classmate at my first real home in Hong Kong.”
Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “Where are your other guests?”
She shrugged, the silk slipping on her collarbone. “I only invited you. These days, I’d rather spend time with people who knew me before. No pretense. No games.”
He took a cautious sip. The wine was extraordinary, velvet on his tongue. More intoxicating was the electric pull asimmer underneath her words. Yeah. Vivian wrapped her loneliness in bravado.
Her dress shimmered emerald in the light. She poured herself a little more and sank into the sofa’s curve. Her knees brushed his. Her night-jasmine perfume wafted into his nostrils. “I want to ask you something, Jason.” She set down her glass. “Since you’re the only person in this city whom I can trust.”
The room closed in on him. He flashed on Debra’s beautiful oval face and the comfort of their shared prayers, then refocused on Vivian. “Sure. Anything.”
She tucked a loose tress behind her ear. Her eyes shone with a restless sparkle. “Have you ever gotten tired of following rules?”
His pulse quickened. He shifted his knees away from hers. “Depends on who’s making them.”
Her chuckle sounded practiced. “I spent all my life playing by other people’s rules. My parents’, the Party’s, men’s. In business, in politics, and in bed.” She let the sentence dangle, her intent unspoken but crackling between them. “What about you? You seem good at saying no. Still, everyone has a price. Or at least, a dream they wish they could buy.”
Jason forced a smile. “Some things aren’t for sale.”
“Are you sure?” She reached out, her fingertips tracing his wrist. “You could become very, very successful. With the right partner. The right risks.”
He swallowed and remained quiet.
“I’ve been thinking”—her words turned deliberate—“about starting a business on the Hong Kong side. A company, maybe. You’d be the CEO. I bring my contacts, and you bring your skills. We could make a killing. Real estate, consulting, venture capital for biotech start-ups. There’s so much money, so many folks wanting to move money out of the mainland into this city.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. “You don’t have to answer now. Just consider it.”
She drew back and locked her gaze on his.
His chest throbbed.
“Partners who trust each other and ask no questions. They understand what the other needs.” She picked up her glass once more and pressed her thigh against his. “No more shame.”
He sucked in a breath, her scent seeping into his lungs. His mind flickered to Debra and her gentle touch as she prayed for him that morning. Don’t overreact. This is work.
Vivian placed a palm on his knee, her fingernails tracing tiny patterns through the fabric of his pants. “Ever since high school, your gorgeous eyes have enchanted me. You always saw good in people. Even in me, when nobody else did.”
Heat crawled up his neck. His whole body thrummed. He wanted—what did he want? I’m married. The urgent words shouted at the back of his mind, a brittle dam against the current pulsing in his veins.
Every muscle screamed a warning, but raw desire pressed. He’d never felt so exposed or so alive.
“We’ll be great together,” she murmured. Her lips moved toward his, the lamp glittering behind her.
A sudden shrill pierced the thick air.
He jerked away, nearly spilling his wine. With a shaking hand, he fished the phone from his pocket. The screen glowed: Pastor Wong. Was it a slap or a deliverance? He released a light cough. “Sorry, Vivian. Let me take this.” He stepped into the hallway. His legs trembled, heat and chill tangled inside of him.
“Jason!” Pastor Wong’s voice boomed through the line. “Just wanted to check. You and Debra are coming to Dawn Island this weekend, right? The folks there are waiting for your testimony. They admire you.”
Jason steadied his breath. The silence beyond the hallway grew tense, pressing at his eardrums. He licked dry lips. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for calling.”
“Are you well?” The pastor’s tone softened. “You sound troubled.”
Jason’s pulse thudded in his throat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed the phone tighter to his ear. “Life’s complicated, Pastor.” He swallowed. “The enemy is good at dressing up temptations. Sometimes they camouflage as opportunities.”
Pastor Wong paused, then prayed for him—right there, a wash of words about strength, discernment, holiness.
When Jason hung up, he faced his reflection in the corridor mirror. Sweat beaded his brow. He lifted a silent prayer to thank the Lord, composed himself, and returned to the living room.
Vivian was refilling her glass. “Everything okay?”
He tried not to look at her lips, the hollow at her collarbone, and the outline of her curves beneath the thin silk. “Have you heard about the Dawn Island Gospel Drug Addiction Treatment Centre in Hong Kong?” He cleared his throat again. “The program there recognizes the need to go beyond just addressing the addiction itself. Volunteers like us take the time to understand the person’s history, substance use, and mental health status. Based on that, we create a personalized treatment plan.”
Vivian sank deeper into the sofa, one foot curled beneath her. “The gospel again, huh?” Tease edged her tone. “Ever wonder if you’re missing out on fun, always being the decent Jason?”
A nervous chuckle slipped out. He stared down at his hands, knuckles white where they gripped his phone. “It’s more about not wanting to ruin what I’ve been given.” He glanced up, the confession raw.
Vivian’s smile faded. She motioned for him to sit down. “You don’t have to be so uptight.”
“Actually, I’d better leave right now.” He patted his pockets as if he’d just remembered a task. “I forgot I have to prepare for my talk. Thanks for the invite, anyway.”
Her face dropped. Then she gave a practiced shrug. “Of course. Can’t let your fans down.”
He hurried toward the exit. “Thanks for the wine. Next time, Debra and I will invite you to our place.”
As he fled, the sweet scent of her penthouse clung to him. Inside the elevator, he leaned his forehead against the cool wall, the insistent thud of his pulse in his ears.
When he reached his apartment, the tide of self-reproach had receded, leaving a gritty residue of relief. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“Hey, honey,” Debra called from the sofa, the tablet on her lap. The smell of garlic and ginger hung in the air. She’d taken the free night to experiment with a new wonton recipe, or so she’d texted. Her brow scrunched. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”
Jason loosened his tie. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He dropped his bag and slid in beside her.
“How did it go?” She put the tablet on the coffee table. “Did you meet more clients interested in buying properties?”
Should he tell her what had happened? No, it’d hurt her feelings and bring questions he wasn’t ready to answer. “Not really.”
She glanced at him, then at the tablet. “I was reading Dad’s manuscript about the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. It dawned on me that Yang Xiuqing and Hsiao Chaogui became ji tong for God and Jesus.”
“Ah, ji tong, spirit mediums.” He slung an arm across her shoulders. “I’ve read the chapters too.”
She nodded. “Back then, most Chinese believed in spirit mediums. Yang’s role as God’s spokesperson and Hsiao serving as a ji tong for Jesus would have strengthened the loyalty of their followers.”
“Strange, right? How people look for something sacred, someone to embody the divine. It blurs the line between faith and performance.” He kissed her temple, grateful for the distraction from his tangled thoughts.
Debra twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I keep imagining what it must have felt like for Xin. If I had been there, I probably would have been awestruck as well. At the same time, Xin was educated and a thinker. He harbored doubts all along.”
With a silent sigh, he pulled her into a tight hug. “We tend to crave tangible things, images we can see and touch.”
“Yeah. From the beginning, humans have longed for something to hold on to as proof of God’s existence. That’s why Aaron gave in to the Israelites’ request and made a golden calf, a physical representation of the God who brought them out of Egypt.” She nestled into his chest. “Our desire for certainty may end up leading us astray.”
“Huh.” He tried to focus. Yet, his mind tripped back to the velvet hush of Vivian’s living room and the heat of her nearness. He stared at Debra’s lovely oval face.
“Are you okay? You seem distracted.” She frowned at him, then shrugged. “Anyway, the whole idea of ji tong… It makes me think about how belief shapes everything. Marriage, trust, even what we’re willing to risk.”
He swallowed, voice rough. “Faith is complicated. Maybe more than we admit.”
“You always say that.” She grinned. “Want some leftovers? I saved you a plate.”
“Love to.” He carved out a smile.
As she rose and moved to the kitchen, he palmed his forehead. What he didn’t say—Vivian, the wine, the subtle gravity of temptation—sat heavy on his shoulders. He muttered a prayer under his breath, thanking God for His protection. The familiarity of his home and his wife’s love steadied him.
She returned and gave him a plate with a pair of chopsticks. “You still don’t look like your usual self.”
Jason’s gaze met hers. If only he could unburden himself. “Long day.” He began to eat, his appetite mechanical.
Debra carried on with stories about history and about faith, change, and hope. He listened, letting her voice ease the quiet ache he’d brought home with him.
Note: See the book trailer at this link, https://youtu.be/SBEv-s1n9LQ
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Have you ever been tempted? How did you handle it?
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Thank you, Ruth, for being so patient!