In the nineties, Singapore’s Mount Faber park had another name—lover’s park. In between evening breezes, the air sweltered, the young couple’s faces became enveloped by humidity, as if suffocated by hot breaths of the dense primordial vegetation. “Hurry up and follow me,” Hong said, shuffling his feet a few steps up the concrete stairway to the left, amidst the chirping, stridulating sound of the crickets. “Ouch,” Penny said. “Go gentle with my hand.” Hong couldn’t help it when he got excited, forgetting that Penny’s fingers suffered from arthritis. Hong was an ex-athlete, and the swollen joints in Penny’s fingers were due to autoimmune disease. “Sorry, we need to move fast, I’ll explain later.” Out of breath, they went behind the shrubs, a stone’s throw from the cable car station. “Why are we hiding?” Penny’s brows furrowed. “I saw the priest from your parish,” Hong whispered. Hong imagined the tungsten red…