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.
bēng
The chapter's word for a woman's blood breaking out and not stopping: 陰虚陽搏，謂之崩 — the yin is empty, the yang beats, and that is called 崩. It stands immediately after 陰搏陽别，謂之有子 in the same paragraph, and the two together are the chapter's sharpest piece of pulse reading. There the yin is full and beats and the yang stands apart, and the woman is with child; here the yin is empty and the yang beats, and the blood comes down. One pulse, two verdicts, and the whole difference is whether the yin is full or empty. 崩 itself is a collapse: a mountain coming down, and the blood coming down with it.
sūn xiè
What long-standing wind becomes, in chapter 17's chain of transformations: 久風爲飱泄. The name is plain about the symptom — the food comes out as it went in, because the centre no longer transforms it — and the chapter attributes it to wind that has stayed rather than to a disorder of the stomach itself. It belongs with the book's other diarrhoeas: 洞泄, pouring diarrhoea, from chapter 3, is named for its manner; 飱泄 is named for what is seen in the stool.
hú shàn
Fox hernia — 狐 hú, a fox; 疝 shàn, a rupture — the swelling that comes and goes like the animal it is named after. 張介賓: 狐疝者，陰囊腫大，或上或下，時時變易，如狐之出沒不常，故名. This chapter names it once, in the first line of the six-line scheme it opens with: 厥陰有餘，病陰痺；不足，病生熱痺；滑則病狐疝風，濇則病少腹積氣 — a surplus in the ceasing yin gives yin impediment, a deficiency gives heat impediment, a slippery pulse gives fox hernia wind, and a rough one gives accumulated qi in the lower abdomen. The fox is what a slippery pulse means here, and the chapter leaves it at that; it does not treat it and does not name it again. The graph 疝 itself is older than the fox: 《說文》 has 疝，腹痛也, belly pain, and 《釋名》 glosses the sound rather than the sense — 疝，詵也，氣詵詵然上入而痛也, the qi crowding upward and hurting as it goes. The word has not appeared in any chapter transcribed on this site before.
xíng bì xuè jìn
The clinical picture with which the chapter poses its hardest question: a body worn out, a blood supply spent, and still no result from treatment. The point is that the phrase is not offered as an explanation — it is the situation, and 神不使也 is the explanation. Late in the chapter the frame appears again from the other side, in 形不可與衣相保, the body can no longer keep company with its clothes, which is oedema — and there a treatment is given.
zhōng mǎn
Fullness in the centre — 中 zhōng, the centre; 滿 mǎn, full — and this chapter is the reason the phrase matters. Its long list of paired cases all end the same way, 治其本, treat the root, until it reaches fullness in the centre: 先熱而後生中滿者治其標, 先病而後先中滿者治其標. Twice out of the chapter's five 治其標, and the only two that are the same disease. The rule that emerges is the chapter's practical legacy — when the centre is blocked, nothing you give will be taken, so the blockage is the branch and it is treated first. The third occurrence proves the rule rather than breaking it: 先中滿而後煩心者治其本, because there the fullness arrived first and is therefore the root of the vexation that followed. 《說文》 has 中，内也 and 滿，盈溢也, which together are close to a definition: the inside has filled to overflowing and has nowhere to go.
xiōng mǎn
A stopped, full feeling in the chest, coming on after a purge. The book gives it once, with a hurried pulse: the exterior was not cleared and the interior was attacked instead, so the chest's yang no longer spreads. The prescription withdraws the sour peony from cinnamon twig decoction, because sourness gathers and the chest wants dispersing. It is not the same as fullness below the heart, which lies in the stomach and calls for a different formula.
dǎn dān
The same word 癉 set in the gallbladder, showing itself as a bitter taste in the mouth. Chapter 47 gives the mechanism in one sentence: the liver is the general within, decision is taken from the gallbladder, and the throat is its envoy; someone who deliberates often and never decides empties the gallbladder, its qi overflows upward, and the mouth is bitter. The treatment is the gallbladder's alarm and transport points.
dà huò
Great confusion — in chapter 27, the name for a specific and serious failure: punishing where there is no fault. What makes it confusion rather than mere error is that the physician cannot distinguish the pairs: he takes repletion for vacuity, the evil for the true, following for going against. The consequence is not just that the treatment fails but that the great channels are thrown into disorder and the true qi cannot be restored. Note that the Lingshu has a chapter of the same name about a quite different matter — dizziness and forgetfulness — so the word is not automatically this chapter's sense.
dà lóu
A severe curvature of the spine. The chapter traces it to yang failing to open and close the pores, so that cold settles into the sinews and along the transport points.
dà hàn
The decisive sweat that marks recovery. Chapter 32 assigns each depot heat disease a day on which it worsens and a day on which the great sweat comes; the worsening day belongs to the phase that conquers the depot, the sweating day to the depot's own phase. The chapter states the rule twice more in general terms, which makes the great sweat the chapter's principal sign that the disease has turned. It is not the same thing as sweating as a symptom, and not the same as the final sweat of a dying patient.
dà fēng
The last and longest case in chapter 55, and the only one the chapter gives a calendar to: heavy joints, beard and eyebrows fallen out, and a treatment that runs in two halves of a hundred days each — needle the flesh until it sweats for a hundred days, then needle to the bone and marrow for another hundred — and stops when the beard and eyebrows grow again. Everything else in the chapter ends on 病已止, the illness done; this one ends on a sign that can only be seen after two hundred days.
kē jí
The chapter's word for the serious illness that does not arise — the one you avoid by following the seasons rather than by any treatment. The transmitted text varies between 苛 and 奇 here; both readings are recorded.