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.
ròu kē
Flesh that has stopped answering: it does not feel, and later it cannot be used, while looking entirely unchanged. The chapter attributes the numbness to construction qi and the loss of use to defence qi, and adds the line that makes the whole passage a diagnosis rather than a description — when body and will no longer have one another, it is called death.
bì qì
The chapter's answer to cold that comes from inside a person who is not thinly dressed and never took cold: there is much obstructing qi, yang qi is scant and yin qi abundant, and the body is cold as though just drawn out of water. Not a disease name so much as a state — the qi is blocked, and warmth is what blocked qi cannot deliver.
bì rè
In chapter 43 the answer to why some obstructions run cold and some hot is a matter of proportion. Much yang and little yin lets the disease qi prevail; yang meets yin and the disease comes out as heat. The chapter needs a name for it and makes one by putting the two graphs together.
piān fēng
One-sided wind is what wind becomes when it strikes a transport on one side of the body rather than settling in a store. Chapter 42 sets it beside 偏枯 (withering on one side), and one line of commentary — Slippery Shou's, cited by Guo Aichun — holds that the opening list's 偏枯 should in fact read 偏風.
fán yuān
煩冤 is the symptom that runs through both halves of the chapter. It appears first in Lei Gong's question: 肝虚、腎虚、脾虚，皆令人體重煩冤 — deficiency of liver, kidney or spleen all make the body heavy and the chest oppressed. It returns in Huang Di's reading of the case: 欬嗽煩冤者，是腎氣之逆也, cough with oppression is the kidney qi rebelling. The word is not 煩躁, fretful agitation; 冤 carries the sense of being bent and unable to straighten, so the whole phrase is a fullness that has no way out. That is why it belongs with 體重 and with 欬嗽 rather than with restlessness.
yì yì
A closed-in, brooding discomfort — the feeling of something shut up inside. The chapter uses it as the last sign of the ceasing yin malaria: fearfulness, shortness of qi, and an oppressed belly. Doubled, it is a state rather than a moment.
xiè fēng
Outpouring wind is wind lodged in the interstices: Wang Bing's gloss turns on the word 泄 — with wind in the interstices the sweat pores open and the sweat is driven out, which is why it is called outpouring. Its signs are sweat that soaks the clothes, a dry mouth, and an inability to labour.
yì yǐn
Chapter 17's account of what happens when a man drinks heavily while very thirsty: the fluid does not stay in the stomach and intestines but passes easily into the space between the flesh and the skin, and that is 溢飲. The chapter's reason for discussing it here is diagnostic: a liver pulse that is soft and scattered, with a complexion that is still glossy, points to overflow rheum rather than to injury — where a hard and long liver pulse with a complexion that is not green points to blood collected under the flanks from a fall.
yín qì
The qi a viscus cannot keep to itself. Chapter 21 uses the word three times in a row, and the pattern never varies: the organ that has been spent pushes its qi out, and what spills goes to work on the organ that one overcomes — the kidney's reaches the lung, the liver's the spleen, the lung's the heart. So 淫 here is a quantity and a direction at once: more than the vessel can hold, travelling a route that is already there. Chapter nine uses the same characters reversed, 氣淫, for a season that arrives ahead of its turn — the same idea of excess applied to the calendar rather than to an organ.
yì yáng
The state in which the neck pulse is four times the wrist pulse and both large and rapid: 人迎四盛，且大且數，名曰溢陽，溢陽爲外格 — overflowing yang is outer obstruction. The image is of water that has left its channel: the excess is not strength but a failure of containment, and the treatment is to open what is blocked rather than to add anything.
yì yīn
The state in which the wrist pulse is four times the neck pulse and both large and rapid: 脉口四盛，且大且數者，名曰溢陰，溢陰爲内關，内關不通，死不治 — overflowing yin is inner obstruction, and inner obstruction that does not open is a death that cannot be treated. The asymmetry with overflowing yang is deliberate: an outer obstruction can still be opened from without, an inner one cannot.
tòng bì
The obstruction in which cold qi prevails. Cold is what makes pain, and the chapter says so twice: once when it names this kind, and again when it explains that obstruction which has gone deep enough to blunt the construction and defence stops hurting, because the pain was the cold and the cold is no longer the whole of it.