The streets of Kuching were alive with the sounds and sights of the Chinese festival, drawing nearly half the town to the Chinese temple in the centre of the city. The end of Wayang Stree turned right, and up Carpenter Street. There were two temples here, facing each other. The one on the left is sometimes referred to as Tortoise Temple, because there were many tortoises kept within the temple. The one of the right was the Temple where the Festival of the Hungry Ghost was held every year, and where the opera is performed. Red and gold lanterns hung above, swaying in the evening breeze; the atmosphere was alive with excitement. The fragrance of incense lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of cuttlefish roasting over charcoal from street vendors. Children darted between the crowd, their laughter rising above the din of chatter.
The temple, with its intricate carvings and stone walls, stood proudly at the corner of the two streets, surrounded by people jostling for position. The sounds of gongs and drums grew louder, signalling the start of the operatic performance. It was a spectacle that attracted everyone - elders, young couples, children, and visitors - all hoping to catch a glimpse of the performers on stage.
Jessica found herself standing at the back, the crowd pushing forward for a better view. The opera singers, dressed in elaborate costumes, prepared to take the stage. She caught glimpses of their vibrant colours and movements, but it wasn't enough to pull her into the excitement. Instead, she stood to the side, trying to avoid the push and shove of the eager crowd.
At 35, she was supposed to be married by now, settled into life with children and a family. That's what people said, anyway. She knew the whispers - how she was too old for love, too old for marriage. At first, she had ignored it, but lately, it had started to make her question herself. Could they be right?
She was wearing her usual dress. Something simple that could easily be made on the Singer sewing machine at home. On her feet were sensible black shoes.
The festival, despite its energy, felt distant to her. The laughter and chatter of the crowd seemed to swirl around her without touching her. She moved a few steps away from the crowd to a quieter spot beside the temple wall. It was a small, empty space, and she welcomed the chance to be away from the pressing throng.
That's when she noticed him.
Ah Peng, standing a few feet away, seemed detached from the chaos around him. His arms were folded, and his gaze was fixed on the crowd, yet there was something calm in his posture, something that made him stand out among the others. She wasn't sure what drew her to him - perhaps the ease with which he seemed to navigate the crowd, or the stillness he projected.
Their eyes met for a moment, and she quickly looked away, not expecting anything. But when she glanced back, he smiled. It wasn't the kind of smile that demanded attention, but rather one that seemed to acknowledge something unspoken.
As the crowd surged forward again, pushing for a better view, Jessica was caught off guard by the movement. She stumbled, losing her balance, but before she could fall, a firm hand steadied her.
"Watch your step," the voice said, low but kind.
She turned to find Ah Peng standing beside her, his hand still on her arm. He didn't immediately pull away, offering support without hesitation.
"Thank you," she said quietly, feeling the heat in her cheeks.
Ah Peng offered a small, reassuring smile. "The crowd can be a bit overwhelming during the festival," he said, his voice calm.
She nodded, though her attention lingered on him for a moment longer than she expected. Something about the encounter felt significant, though she couldn't place why. The sounds of the performance faded into the background, and for the briefest moment, it was as if the festival had stopped, leaving just the two of them.