"I know everything," the little boy said, his eyes wide as he grinned. He began to sing a nursery rhyme.
"Who killed the robin redbreast? The robin died on the island.
The wolf killed the robin redbreast, the sparrow sings with flapping wings.
The wolf killed it with poison, its eyes wouldn't close when it died."
Sunlight tinged with the salty dampness of the island poured through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a faint, illusory shadow on the empty seat. Tiny dust motes danced in the light falling through that empty space. The child's voice was clear and crisp, the melody gentle and meticulous, yet the lyrics were more terrifying than the original Mother Goose rhyme. In the eerie cadence of the song, everyone seemed spellbound, frozen in place. Fang Daichuan stared at that
