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.
mài wěi
The flaccidity that follows heat in the heart: the lower vessels are emptied by the surge upward and the legs lose their power. The chapter adds the mechanism in the second half — when the great conduits are empty, flesh obstruction develops and passes on into vessel flaccidity — so the same tissue that carries blood is the one that fails.
mài bì
The obstruction that comes of meeting the three qi in summer. Summer is the season of the vessels and the vessel is matched with the heart, so a vessel obstruction that will not clear and meets evil again goes inward to the heart — and the sign the chapter gives for obstruction lodged in the vessel is that the blood congeals and does not flow.
bāo mài
The vessel that belongs to the heart and nets into the womb. Its closing is the chapter's explanation for absent menses in wind water: the qi presses upward on the lung, the heart qi cannot pass down, and so the menses do not come. The chapter's point is that the womb is not itself diseased — the passage of qi to it has been cut off from above.
kè qì
Visiting qi — 客 kè, a guest; 氣 qì, qi — the qi that comes from outside and lodges where it does not belong. 《說文》 has 客，寄也, to lodge, which is exactly how 素問 uses the graph for evil: not owned, not native, staying anyway. This chapter gives it once, paired with its opposite: 人有客氣，有同氣. The two readings of that pair have never been reconciled. 馬蒔 takes 客氣 as the evil arriving from without and 同氣 as the qi one is born with. 張介賓 reads both through the doctrine of the circuit qi — 客氣 the qi that moves and never repeats, 同氣 the seasonal qi that is the same year after year. The sentence that follows is about the passages, not about either word, so the chapter gives no help; both are recorded. The word is not otherwise used in the chapter, and it does not appear in any chapter transcribed on this site before this one.
ǒu xuè
Blood vomited up. It is one of the few signs this chapter repeats across two entries, and in both it stands next to blood lost elsewhere — nosebleed in one, nosebleed again in the other — so that the pair reads as bleeding rather than as two symptoms.
wǎn
The inward distress that chapter 30 puts between the panting of Yangming counterflow and the patient's inability to bear people. It is not grief and not fear: it is the oppression of a chest that cannot get its breath, and the chapter treats it as sufficient explanation for a social symptom — a man distressed within cannot bear company. The graph appears twice in the chapter, in immediate succession, and the two occurrences form the whole argument.
wēn bìng
A febrile disease of heat type appearing in spring after cold contracted in winter has been held latent. This sentence is the seed from which the later Warm Disease school grew.
wēn nüè
Malaria whose fit begins with heat and goes on to cold. The late passage gives it a home: wind struck in winter, cold stored in the bone and marrow, held there through spring's rising yang, released only when summerheat scorches the marrow and a strain opens the interstices. It lodges in the kidney, and its qi travels from within outward — which is why heat comes first and cold follows when it turns back in.
xiāo dān
The wasting disease — what later ages called 消渴, in which the patient drinks constantly and still loses flesh. Chapter 28's answer is the only one in the chapter that weighs the length of the illness against the pulse: if the pulse is replete and large, even a long illness can still be treated; if it is hanging, small and hard, then a long illness cannot. The same pulse that would be encouraging in another disease is here read against time, because a body that has been burning through itself for years has less to draw on.
xiāo zhōng
What heat becomes when it settles, in chapter 17's list of how an illness changes once formed: 癉成爲消中 — heat (癉, dān) becomes wasting in the centre. The word 消 is the same one the book uses for melt and for consume, and the classical picture is of a man who eats and is not nourished: the centre burns it away faster than it can be used. The chapter places it in a chain — wind becomes cold and heat, heat becomes wasting in the centre, counterflow becomes disease of the crown, standing wind becomes food-diarrhoea, wind in the vessels becomes pestilent sores — and then says the transformations cannot be counted.
ròu shuò
What the chapter predicts for a person whose four limbs are hot and who, on meeting wind, is as if scorched and as if on fire: the flesh will be wasted. The reasoning is the chapter's favourite kind — two yangs meeting while yin is scant, so a little water cannot quench a vigorous fire, and what governs alone cannot bring growth.
fū zhǒng
The swelling of water disease — the flesh heavy and puffed with water that has collected and cannot be moved. The chapter accounts for it three times over, and each account starts at the kidney. First by the gate: 腎者，胃之關也，關門不利，故聚水而從其類也。上下溢於皮膚，故爲胕腫。胕腫者，聚水而生病也 — the kidney is the gate of the stomach; when the gate will not open and shut, water collects, follows its own kind, and overflows into the skin. Then by the wind: 勇而勞甚，則腎汗出…客於𤣥府，行於皮裏，傳爲胕腫。本之於腎，名曰風水 — the sweat comes out, meets wind, lodges in the dark openings and turns into the same swelling, whose root is in the kidney and whose name is wind water. Then as half of a picture: 下爲胕腫、大腹，上爲喘呼、不得卧者，標本俱病 — swelling and a big belly below, panting and no lying down above, the root and the tip both diseased. 水腫 is named once beside it, 腎爲水腫. The graph 胕 is glossed 腫也 in the 集韻 at 芳無切 and read fū; it is also read fù in the sense of 附著, and 《太素》 carries the same passage with the same graph — both readings are recorded. The word occurs four times in this chapter and has not appeared in any chapter transcribed on the site before.