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.
diān jí
The falling disease — fits, seizures, and the derangements that go with them. Chapter 28 judges it entirely by the pulse: a pulse that beats large and slippery will settle of itself in time, while one that is small, hard and racing means death and no cure. Pressed on whether the disease is vacuous or replete, Qibo gives the answer that inverts the usual rule — vacuous, it can be treated; replete, the patient dies — because here repletion means the evil has taken hold and vacuity means it is loosening.
mù fēng
Eye wind is the second head wind of chapter 42. Wang Bing explains the anatomy: the greater yang vessel rises from the inner canthus over the forehead and enters the network of the brain, so wind that enters and binds the head shows in the eyes, and the eyes are cold.
féi qì
One of the five accumulations, the one belonging to the liver. The chapter gives it in the liver's pulse series: 微急，爲肥氣，在脅下，若覆杯 — a slightly urgent liver pulse gives fat qi below the flanks, like an overturned cup. The place is the liver's own region, and the image is precise: a rounded mass whose edge can be felt and whose underside cannot. Later texts made the five accumulations a system — 肥氣 for the liver, 伏梁 for the heart, 痞氣 for the spleen, 息賁 for the lung, 奔豚 for the kidney — and this chapter is where four of the five names first stand together, each attached to a pulse rather than to a doctrine.
fā rè
Heat issuing from the body. The book's point is not that fever is present but when: in cold damage it may have begun or not, and the aversion to cold is what cannot be missing. Where fever stands with aversion to cold the illness is of the yang; where there is no fever at all the illness is of the yin; and where fever comes with thirst and no aversion to cold it is warm disease, a different road altogether.
lòu
What cold becomes when it sinks into the vessels and stays: a fistula. The sequence in Suwen 3 is exact — opening and closing fail, cold qi follows in, and there is great hunching; sunk into the vessels it becomes fistula; lingering in the flesh it turns the qi of the transport points oppressive, so that what follows is a readiness to fear and to be terrified. Later usage takes 瘻 as the sinus that will not close.
zhuó bì
The obstruction in which damp qi prevails. Damp is heavy and clinging, and the name says what that produces: an obstruction that settles in one place and will not move. The chapter gives it no further explanation, because the graph already carries it — 著 is what stays.
wěi
The withering of a limb that keeps its feeling. Chapter 44 lays it out as a disease of heat in the stores: the lung scorches the skin and hair, the heart empties the lower vessels, the liver dries the sinew membranes, the spleen dries the flesh, the kidney empties the marrow — and in each case the tissue fails and the limb goes slack. The word is rendered flaccidity on this site, after the existing entry for 痿厥.
wěi bì
Flaccidity in which the legs will not carry the body: the form the chapter treats as the outcome of heat in the lung. Because the lung is chief of the stores and canopy over the heart, its scorched lobe stands behind all five flaccidities, and this two-graph name is the one the chapter uses for the result.
wěi jué
A compound of weakness and cold: the limbs waste and lose their strength while the extremities turn cold because the qi no longer reaches them. Here it follows damp contracted in autumn.
wěi yì
What the third yang and the third yin produce together: 三陽三陰發病，爲偏枯痿易，四支不舉. The third yang is the greater yang and the third yin the greater yin — exterior and interior, the two that answer each other — and when they fall ill together the body is left with 偏枯 and 痿易, and in the end the four limbs cannot be raised. The two names in the pair are not the same: 偏枯 says that one side has withered, 痿易 says that the flesh has gone limp and slack. 易 is the harder half of the word, and the commentators divide on it — 王冰 reads it as change, the later writers as the giving way of slackness. Both readings agree that the flesh is no longer doing anything.
ròu wěi
The flaccidity of the flesh, from heat in the spleen on one hand and from standing dampness on the other. The chapter's second account is the one that mattered to later medicine: dwelling in wet places and working with water soak the flesh until it is obstructed, and numbness turns into flaccidity.
jī bì
The obstruction that comes of meeting the three qi at utmost yin, the long summer. Flesh is the tissue of that season and the spleen is the store it is matched with, so flesh obstruction that persists and meets evil again lodges in the spleen. Lodged in the flesh it shows as insensitivity.