At six-thirty in the morning, before the morning fog in the south of the Yangtze River cleared, Vosswein had already stepped on the dew-stained stone road to the gate of the Tongxiang Sericulture Purchasing Center. His work badge hangs on his khaki canvas bag, and the white-whipped edges read "Purchasing Clerk Vosswein." His name was given to him by his grandfather, and he was always teased by his colleagues like a "gringo." He just smiled every time, lowered his head and continued to check the purchasing list in his hand.
As the clerk who knows the most about cocoons in the entire purchasing center, Voswein's job is much more than just sitting in a cubicle and typing on the keyboard. His daily routine is to follow the cocoon collection truck to more than a dozen surrounding sericulture villages in the early morning. He can accurately judge the grade of silkworm cocoons by touching them with his hands, looking at them with his eyes, and smelling them with his nose. Spring cocoons are thick, milky white in color, firm and firm when pinched, and are the best material for silk reeling; summer cocoons are thinner and slightly yellowish, suitable for making low-end silk cloth; autumn cocoons are somewhere in between, and have the highest cost performance. Today he has to contact Uncle Zhou, an old silkworm farmer from Shimen Village. The number of spring cocoons reported by Uncle Zhou last week was 3,000 kilograms. However, Voswein inquired in advance that Shimen Village suffered a bit of a late spring cold this year, and the cocoon production was reduced by at least 30%. He had to go and verify it, so as not to lose money to the silkworm farmers, nor allow the company to overpay.
In the cab of the cocoon harvesting truck, his tools are piled in the passenger seat: an electronic scale accurate to the gram, a magnifying glass, and a dog-eared "Sericulture Procurement Practical Manual"
