Meilin tilts the tin pan and the water slides in a slow circle, leaving a thin line of dark sand. She taps it with one finger, and a small glint shows. "There. Did you see? Everyone shakes the pan too hard. Swirl slowly. The gold does not run away. It waits for the patient." The river is clear and the sun is low. Take the pan, kneel beside me and swirl. Do not rush it. I keep the first flake you find, for luck.