Each entry gives the term in traditional and simplified form, its pinyin, the senses it carries in the classical corpus, the passages where it does real work, and how published translations have rendered it.
xié qì huà rì
The verdict for a year in which one qi got the better of another and the other answered: 乙丑、乙未歲。上太陰土，中少商金運，下太陽水。熱化寒化，勝復同，所謂邪氣化日也. Six of the sixty years are so marked, and each is marked for the same reason — 勝復同, prevalence and revenge the same. The word is the chapter's harshest: 邪 is the graph for qi that is off its line, and a year so judged is one in which the calendar's own arithmetic shows the year doing something other than what its qi was charged to do. It is the 變 of 六化六變 written into a single year.
xié qì huà dù
Nine of the sixty years end 邪氣化度也: 丁丑、丁未歲。上太陰土，中少角木運，下太陽水，清化熱化勝，復同，邪氣化度也. Each of the nine carries 勝復同 in the sentence before it, exactly as the six 邪氣化日-rows do; the difference between the two groups is only the word the table chooses to close them with. Taken with the 十九 upright measures, the four verdicts between them close forty-five of the sixty years, which is why the chapter can end its table with 勝復正化，皆有常數，不可不察.
jiàn shèn
The pair names what a doctor most wants to predict: not the illness but its rhythm. In chapter 22 the times of abatement and aggravation are settled by which phase the viscus meets — whether the day brings what it engenders, what overcomes it, what engenders it, or its own seat. But the chapter closes that passage with a condition that must not be skipped: none of these times can be spoken of until the pulses of the five viscera have been fixed. The calendar is useless without the wrist.
fù mǎn
A full belly, usually distended with qi. The chapter treats it as one of the few signs that cut across the conduit entries: it belongs to greater yin in its own right, appears beside heart pain in lesser yin, and explains why inversion can leave a person unaware of others.
shàng gé
The first of the chapter's two obstructions: qi is held above the diaphragm, so food and drink enter and return at once. Against it stands 下膈, the worm obstruction below the diaphragm, where food stays a full day before coming back. The pair is the chapter's whole frame, and the difference between them is both speed and seat. The treatment that follows — pressing the abscess, shallow needling around it, warming with a hot compress, then bringing the grain down with salt and bitter — is one of the few complete procedures in the book.
yōng
A gathering that has Ripened and is walled off: heat dammed at one place until it can no longer move on. Chapter 46 reads an abscess of the gastric duct off the neck pulse — counterflow and fullness there means heat has collected at the mouth of the stomach — and then uses an abscess of the neck to state a principle: the same name covers two grades, one still growing and one where blood has already gathered, and the grade and not the name decides whether one uses the needle or the stone.
yōng jū
The two kinds of abscess: the raised hot one that comes to a head, and the deep flat one that does not. Chapter 28's only reason for naming them is to exempt them — the rule that in winter one should use medicines and go lightly with needles and stones does not apply here, because an abscess grants no delay, not so much as an hour. What follows is a run of practical entries: where to needle an abscess that has no fixed place, an abscess in the armpit with great heat, and a sudden abscess with slackening sinews.
jǐng yōng
An abscess at the neck, and chapter 46's worked example of how one name can cover two diseases. Asked why stone and needle both cure it, Qi Bo answers that the name is shared but the grade is not: while the qi of the abscess is still growing one opens it with the needle; once qi is full and blood has gathered one uses stone to drain it. The chapter names the principle in four words — 同病異治, the same disease treated differently.
yōng yáng
The illness of the east. Fish heats the inside, salt gets the better of the blood, and with the blood weakened and heat present the people readily break out in abscesses and sores. Wang Bing says exactly that. Because they are abscesses, the treatment is the stone: what has come to a head is opened. This is the chapter's logic in miniature — the illness named and the method chosen in the same breath.
yōng zhǒng
Abscessous swelling. The first two cold transmissions in chapter 37 both produce it, and are told apart by what accompanies it: scant qi, or drawn-up sinews.
wú hàn
No sweat, read as a finding. In taiyang it means the exterior is shut and the pattern is cold damage rather than wind strike; in chapter four it is half of what makes spasm hard rather than soft; and in the pulse chapter, attached to the head, it is a prognostic sign in the barrier-and-rejection illness, where sweat on the head means the yang is escaping upward and no sweat means there is still something to treat.
jī qì
The diagnosis the second half of the chapter returns five times. A colour, a pulse, and then the same sentence: there is accumulated qi in such and such a place. What follows is always a name — heart obstruction, lung obstruction, liver obstruction, reversal shan, kidney obstruction — and always a cause, and the cause is never anything exotic: brooding, drink and sex, cold damp, hard labour in the wind, a bath in cold water. 積 means heaped up, not stuck: nothing in the chapter says the qi cannot move.