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.
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.
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.
yuān
A word that survives in the Suwen in two places and was already rare when the dictionaries were assembled. In chapter 7 it is the ache in the calf that comes with the three yang's disease: cold and heat, abscesses below, flaccidity, reversal, and an aching shank. In chapter 21 it is the heart that aches, when true emptiness is there and the one yin governs. Nothing else hangs on the word; it belongs to descriptions where the body hurts sourly and without inflammation, which is why the dictionaries reach for sour.
nì shùn
Adverse and favourable — the two directions a case can go, and the thing the chapter says a physician may finally speak of, but only after the year has been established, its qi known, and the corresponding qi of left and right seen. The condition is the point: 先立其年，以知其氣。左右應見，然後乃可以言死生之逆順. Nothing in the chapter allows a verdict to be given before that, and the chapter has already ruled out the one shortcut that might have served — the pulse cannot read the changes of heaven and earth.
nì jué
五藏之氣已絶於外，而用鍼者反實其内，是謂逆厥 — when the qi of the five viscera is cut off at the outside and the needler instead repletes the inside, this is called adverse inversion. 逆厥則必死，其死也躁 — death, and the death is agitated, because what was shut in turns and struggles. It is the exact mirror of 重竭: there the inside was gone and the outside was filled; here the outside is gone and the inside is filled. The correction: 反取四末刺之 — needle the four extremities instead. It is not 厥逆 (id 925), the general term for qi reversing upward.