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.
lù lù
Sweat pouring off and not stopping. The third of the three prohibitions, and the one that completes the set: scorching heat, a pulse that cannot be read, and sweat that will not stop. At that point the disease is in counterflow and cannot be treated.
zhuàng huǒ
Fire grown past its measure — the fire that eats and scatters the qi rather than feeding it. Suwen 5 puts it in a single breath with 少火, and the contrast is the whole doctrine: 壯火食氣，少火生氣 — the strong fire eats the qi, the lesser fire gives it birth. The chapter's other two clauses say the same thing from either end: the qi of the strong fire wanes, and the strong fire scatters the qi. The pair stands at the head of the chapter's long argument about qi and flavour, and later medicine took the two graphs as the names of the pathological and the physiological fire respectively.
cù
Sudden. Chapter 39 reads the graph cù rather than zú, and suddenness is the mark of the pains it is about: they arrive all at once, and the worst of them are sudden enough to look like death.
bó jué
The collapse that follows a paroxysm of anger: the qi of the form is cut off, the blood collects in the upper body, and consciousness is lost. Later texts connect it with what is now called stroke.
kǔ yù
Chapter 22 states both halves for each viscus, and everything else hangs from them. The liver suffers urgency and desires dispersal; the heart suffers laxity and desires softness; the spleen suffers dampness and desires relaxation; the lung suffers rising qi and desires gathering; the kidney suffers dryness and desires firmness. The first half tells you what to expect when the organ is ill and what foods to forbid. The second half tells you which flavour is a gift and which is a drain — since a flavour that gives the organ what it wants supplements it, and one that denies it drains it.
xià zhì
The dividing line by which chapter 31 splits one disease into two named diseases. Cold damage that develops into heat is called warm disease if it comes before the summer solstice and summerheat disease if it comes after. Nothing is said about the cause changing — it is one cause, one progression, and two names read off the calendar. This is the chapter's closing move, and it answers the opening one: heat diseases are all of the class of cold damage, and even when they are divided by season they are still that class.
shǔ
The name chapter 31 gives to cold damage that has developed into heat after the summer solstice, the counterpart of warm disease before it. The chapter's therapeutic note for summerheat is one line and is easy to get wrong: the sweat should be let out along with it, and must not be stopped. This is the same logic that governs the three-day rule earlier in the chapter — follow the direction the disease is already taking rather than opposing it.
bǔ xiě
The two things a needle does. Drain: 寫曰：必持内之，放而出之，排陽得鍼，邪氣得泄 — hold it and put it in, let it out, push the yang aside so the needle gets through, and the evil qi escapes. Supplement: 補曰：隨之隨之，意若妄之…外門已閉，中氣乃實 — follow it, follow it, as if absent-minded, until the outer gate is shut and the qi within is full. The rule behind both: 徐而疾則實，疾而徐則虚 — slow in and quick out fills, quick in and slow out empties. 寫 is the base graph of 瀉.
bǔ xiè
This is the chapter's most practical teaching and its most counter-intuitive. Every viscus has one flavour that supplements it and another that drains it, and the pairing is decided not by the phase the viscus belongs to but by what the viscus wants: the liver desires dispersal, so acrid — which is the metal flavour, the phase that conquers wood — supplements it. Bitter firms the kidney but drains the spleen; sweet relaxes the spleen yet drains the heart. A flavour is not a property, it is a lever, and which way it moves depends on the organ at the other end.
hàn
Chapter 21 hands out five sweats and gives each a different viscus to come from: eating to repletion sweats the stomach, fright that seizes the essence sweats the heart, carrying weight on a long road sweats the kidney, running in fear sweats the liver, labour sweats the spleen. The move is diagnostic rather than decorative — each sweat reports which store has been drawn on. Later chapters take sweat as an ending rather than a message: the final sweat that precedes death in the channel endings, and the drenching sweat that accompanies a lung pulse so dissipated that its colour stays bright.
hàn chū
Sweat appearing on the body. The book reads it three ways: as the sign of wind strike when it comes with fever, aversion to wind and a slack pulse; as the sign of recovery when it follows a shiver and the pulse is right; and as the sign of yang leaking away when it runs like beads of pearl or will not stop after sweating has been used. The same two characters can mean deliverance or danger, and only the pulse and what comes with it decide which.
kě hàn kě xiè
The chapter's rule for treating the six-channel progression, stated as a boundary at three days. While the three days are not yet full the disease is in the three yang and has not entered the depots, so it can be sweated out; once the three days are full it has gone inward, so it must be drained. The principle behind the rule is given in the line that precedes it: treat by opening the vessel of whichever depot is affected, and the disease will decline day by day. The rule tells you when; that line tells you what to open. The chapter returns to the same logic at the end, where summerheat must be let out with the sweat and not stopped.