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.
shí
The replete quality: a pulse with substance, resisting pressure. The book derives it three times over — slip is replete, large is replete, deep at the instep is replete — and once contrasts it with emptiness in the same breath (浮爲虚，大爲實). It also uses 實 for the repletion of the whole case, as in 此爲實，名曰陽結. Pulse and case are not the same proposition, and the entry keeps them apart.
yóu bù
The third of the three names in the chapter's first answer: 三陽爲經，二陽爲維，一陽爲游部. The three are not three vessels but three ways of describing where the yang qi runs — the warp that goes straight, the weft that ties, and the division that roams. 游 carries the sense of the pennant's streamer, something that moves and does not settle; 部 is a marked-off region. Put together, the phrase says that the one yang has a region but not a fixed seat, which is why it is the one yang that is felt 上連人迎 in the answer that follows, and why the lesser yang is the channel of the pivot in later doctrine. The chapter uses the three names to reach a single conclusion: 此知五藏終始 — with warp, weft and roaming division in hand, the beginning and end of the five viscera can be known.
zhū yáng zhī běn
Chapter 30's account of the four limbs: they are the root of all the yang, which is why exuberant yang makes them full and a full limb can climb where an ordinary one cannot. The sentence is the chapter's answer to its own hardest question — how illness can make a man able to do what health could not — and it is answered entirely in terms of what the extremities have too much of.
zhōng gēn
The chapter's name for what a creature is rooted in from within, and the reason the same year does not fall on the five classes alike. The paragraph that names it runs: 五類衰盛，各隨其氣之所宜也，故有胎孕不育，治之不全，此氣之常也，所謂中根也. What is being said is that the year's qi decides what may flourish, but whether a given creature answers that qi is settled by what is rooted in the creature itself. The next paragraph gives the pair in full: 根于中者，命曰神機，神去則機息 — what is rooted within is called the spirit mechanism, and when the spirit goes the mechanism breathes out; 根于外者，命曰氣立，氣止則化絶 — what is rooted without is called the qi that stands, and when the qi stops its transformations stop too. 中根 is therefore the first and stronger half of a distinction the chapter ends on, and its point is that unevenness in a year is not disorder but 氣之常.
huài fǔ
The point past which treatment does not reach, and the reason chapter 25 is as much about timing as about technique. The chapter gives three signs that a vessel is failing from inside — salt drawing moisture through the jar, a string whose note goes hoarse before it snaps, a tree whose leaves are spent — and then names the state they indicate. The practical claim is negative and absolute: potent drugs do not treat it and the short needle has nothing to take hold of. What is left is skin broken, flesh wounded, blood and qi contending until they blacken.
wěi dǐ
The lower end of the spine, given as the terminus of a count rather than a shape. From the spinal bone down to it there are twenty-one vertebrae and three chi. The chapter then divides that length: the upper vertebra is one cun and a fraction of four, the odd fraction falls to the lower ones, and the upper seven come to nine cun and seven eighths. It is the only place in the book where the spine is both counted and measured.
qióng gǔ
The bone at the lower end of the spine, which the chapter itself glosses as the sacral bone. It comes at the close of the treatment for the falling disease: the physician keeps company with the patient, watches where the seizure will take hold, bleeds the full place and keeps the blood in a gourd; when the fit comes the blood stirs, and if it does not stir the sacrum is cauterised twenty壮. The gloss is the earliest plain equation of 窮骨 with 骶骨, and it is why the entry matters: the book stops to define its own anatomical word.
shèng wáng
Not a grade of person in this chapter but a name given for a result: he who can read colour and pulse keeps far from death and near to life, the way of living is lengthened, and he is called a sage king. Wang Bing's note is dry about who qualifies: the emperors of high antiquity heard the way and practised it diligently, and only a sage king manages to use it constantly. The word is distinct from 聖人 — the sage of Suwen 1 is a private attainment; the sage king of this chapter is a public one, and the chapter's last movement makes the connection explicit by comparing bad medicine to bad government.
sàn
The scattered quality: a pulse without root, whose beats come apart instead of gathering. It appears once in the five chapters, and once is enough: 傷寒欬逆上氣，其脉散者死，謂其形損故也 — a cough with rebelling qi, and a pulse that scatters, means death, because the body has already been damaged. The entry therefore records the one occurrence and the reason given for it, and refuses to build a shape out of later handbooks.
qī yào
The sun and moon with the five planets, and in this chapter the things that weave the emptiness while the five phases attach themselves to the earth. The line is a pair, and the pair is the chapter's model of how change works: 天垂象，地成形，七曜緯虚，五行麗地. What is above moves and gives images; what is below holds still and gives forms. The chapter then says why that matters — because form and essence are as root to branches, one may look up at the images and know what is far off.
qī zhěn
The seven things that single a probe out. Examine the nine probes and ask which one is unlike the rest: the one that is alone small is diseased, alone large is diseased, alone swift is diseased, alone slow is diseased, alone hot is diseased, alone cold is diseased, alone sunken is diseased. The chapter then does something unusual — it admits that these signs can lie. If the seven signs appear but the nine probes still follow one another, the patient does not die; the diseases of wind and the monthly disease look like the seven signs and are not them. It is only when a seven-sign disease is joined by probes that have themselves gone bad that death follows, and then with hiccup and belching.
duǎn qī
The subject of the chapter's last movement, and the thing Lei Gong has to ask for three times. First he says 請問短期 and the emperor does not answer at all; then 雷公復問 and is told only 在經論中; then he asks a third time, 請聞短期, and the answer comes. 短 is opposed to 長: not the long term of a chronic course but the near term, the date within reach. What the answer gives is not a number of days but a calendar — winter's illness ending as spring goes out, spring's when the grass dries, summer's at the Lian water, autumn's rising and stopping of itself — and it closes on 期在石水 and 期在盛水. The threefold asking is part of the teaching: a term of death is not volunteered, and the silence in the middle is not refusal but the test of whether the question is meant.