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.
hóu bì
In the seventh chapter, what is produced when the first yin and the first yang knot together — ceasing yin and lesser yang. The throat closes: it swells, and the voice will not come out. It is the one entry in the chapter's list of knottings that pairs a yin with a yang rather than counting one side alone.
rén shì
The fourth failure is the one the chapter states most briefly and means most heavily: 診病不問其始，憂患飲食之失節，起居之過度，或傷於毒，不先言此，卒持寸口 — to diagnose without asking how the illness began, without asking of grief and food and rest and poison, and then to seize the wrist. 診無人事 is the summary of it: diagnosis without the human matter. What makes the phrase an entry rather than a remark is that the chapter's third failure is made of the same substance — 不適貧富貴賤之居，坐之薄厚，形之寒温，不適飲食之宜，不别人之勇怯 — so that two of the four failures are failures to ask about the patient's life. In ch77 the same word stands on the other side: 從容人事 is what a physician with the four virtues does. Read together, 人事 is the hinge of both chapters.
hún
The liver stores the hun and the lung the po — two of the five things chapter 23 says the viscera hold, and the pair that has given translators the most trouble. They are the two souls, and the dictionary's own gloss separates them by phase: one is yang qi, the other a yin spirit. The chapter puts them in a list with spirit, thought and will, and in doing so says what it thinks they are — five things a person has, each lodged somewhere. The site already has an entry for the po; this is the other half, and the two should be read together.
bì jué
Winter's pair: obstruction and inversion, named together. Suwen 4 lists them last in its catalogue of what each season is prone to, and last again in the catalogue of what a disciplined year avoids — 冬不病痺厥、飱泄而汗出也. Why the two are one subject is the chapter's own physics: winter stores, and the failure of storing is both a stopping and a reversal. What stops is the 痺; what reverses, so that the hands and feet go cold while the root is at fault, is the 厥. The site carries both graphs singly as well — 痺 as bi · obstruction, 厥 as inversion — and this entry is for the pair as the chapter uses it.
shèn jì wǔ fēn
How far out a year may be. The passage asks what happens when the qi above and the qi below do not match: 天氣不足，地氣隨之；地氣不足，天氣從之 — and then says how much of the difference will be visible. 大要曰：甚紀五分，微紀七分，其差可見. Read with the sentence before it (故上勝則天氣降而下，下勝則地氣遷而上，多少而差其分，微者小差，甚者大差，甚則位易氣交，易則大變生而病作矣), the figure is a threshold: the discrepancy is always there, and only when it grows does it turn into disease. It is the chapter's last word on degree, and the only place in it where a difference is given a number.
nèi guān
The name given when the wrist pulse is four times the neck pulse, as 溢陽 is given when the neck is four times the wrist. The image is of a gate barred from within: the yin has swollen until it can no longer let the yang through, and the verdict is blunt — death, beyond treatment. It is the exact counterpart of overflowing yang, and the pair marks the chapter's outermost reach: at one, two and three degrees the disease is still named by channel, at four it is named by a failure of passage. Note that the graph is 關, a gate, and not 内關 the point on the forearm; the two are homographs and nothing more, which is why the site keeps the phrase as a diagnostic name and not as an acupuncture one.
nèi fēng
Inner wind is the wind of the bedchamber: caught when the body has been opened by sweating and is therefore unprotected. It stands in the chapter's catalogue between leaking wind (caught drinking) and head wind (caught washing the hair) — each named for the act that left the body open.
bù rén
Numbness — the tissue that no longer reports. Chapter 24 gives it a cause and not merely a description: a body subjected repeatedly to fright and fear, in which the channels and networks no longer get through. The word is worth a note because it is the book's moral vocabulary turned to a clinical use, and because the chapter attributes it to a life rather than to a pathogen. It is also the only one of the five forms and wills whose treatment is entirely external, which follows: if the trouble is that the part does not answer, the methods are the ones that address it from the outside.
nà zhēn
Bringing the needle in — insert. Chapter 27 is the clearest statement in the Suwen of the respiratory timing of insertion, because it gives both techniques and they are opposites: in draining one inserts on an inhalation and withdraws on the exhalation, so that the great qi comes out; in supplementing one inserts at the end of an exhalation and withdraws on an inhalation, so that the qi cannot get out. The reading nà is what makes the phrase a verb; read nèi it would be a location, and the sentence would have no predicate.
cháng yōng
Abscess within the bowel. Chapter 45 names it once, as the complication that makes counterflow inversion in lesser yang untreatable — the only entry in the catalogue with a prohibition rather than a treatment.
cháng pì
Dysentery — a flux from the bowel, carrying blood, white froth, or pus and blood. Chapter 28 treats it as a set piece, asking four questions in a row and matching what is passed against what the pulse is doing: with blood, heat in the body kills and coldness lets live; with white froth, a sunken pulse lives and a floating one dies; with pus and blood, a pulse hanging on the edge of breaking kills and a slippery large one lives; and when neither heat nor the hanging pulse is present, it comes back to the same test — slippery and large is life, hanging and rough is death.
cháng tán
The first of the two abdominal masses, and the one that moves. Cold qi lodges outside the intestine and wrestles with the guarding qi; the qi can no longer nourish, something ties and binds, evil qi rises and a fleshy polyp grows. It begins the size of a hen's egg and enlarges until the belly looks like a pregnancy; in long cases it lasts for years, feels hard under the hand, shifts when pushed, and the menses come on time. That last clause is the whole diagnosis: a mass outside the womb leaves the womb's calendar intact, and it is exactly what separates 腸覃 from 石瘕, which sits in the womb and stops the menses. The name is thus a description of behaviour — a thing that extends along the gut, outside it — rather than of shape.