Library

I am endowed with dull intelligence. My family has been engaged in Confucian studies for generations. When I was around fifteen years old, I devoted myself to the composition of eight-legged essays. Before my learning had even begun to glimpse its essence, my strict father passed away. At that time, my teacher, Dai Wangzhi, who excelled in the classics and achieved high honors, was proficient in Qihuang (Traditional Chinese Medicine). He said to me, "The sages of old have said: 'If one cannot be a good prime minister, then one should be a good physician.' Pursuing a livelihood is akin to governing the world. Why do you not plan for this path?' Thus, I resolved to study diligently and bitterly. All secrets guarded by Tongjun (the God of Medicine) and teachings transmitted by Leigong (the Divine Farmer), as well as precious medical texts and treasured scrolls, were extensively collected and studied. Generally speaking, regarding internal medicine, the discussions of former sages seemed detailed and comprehensive. However, books on surgery were either broad yet lacking in essentials, or obscure and incomplete. Like the long legs of a crane and the short feet of a duck, or the large belly of a pig and the head of a dragon, I secretly harbored doubts. Through refinement and careful contemplation, I gained some insights. Fortunately, I entered the imperial court to serve, and erroneously accepted an appointment for examination, achieving many successes. Yet, I possessed no other special techniques; I could only distinguish differences in constitutional endowment (thick vs. thin) and variations in local climate (cold vs. warm). For rare diseases not commonly seen today, and unique prescriptions not necessarily existing in ancient times, I applied my own ingenuity, adapting and varying within the legacy of predecessors. Accumulating day by day, it did not form a complete volume. In the spring of Gengzi year, my beloved mother passed away. During the period of mourning and reading rites, I took all various books and synthesized them. Some discussed symptoms but not pulse diagnosis; some illustrated shapes, fixed names and colors, but did not differentiate acupoint sequences; some distinguished major toxins while ignoring minor ones; some detailed minor toxins but briefly mentioned major ones. They were chaotic and unordered, too numerous to list. I presumptuously conducted textual research and collation, compiling them into a single book. Important contents were streamlined, missing parts supplemented, errors corrected, and chaos organized. The methods first list the six pulses, so that pathogenic and righteous factors, deficiency and excess are as clear as distinct eyebrows; next, they list the Three Causes (internal, external, and non-internal/external causes), so that disease origins are as clear as a rhinoceros horn's light; subsequently, they list the principles of Yin and Yang, auspiciousness and malignancy, life and death, and favorable and adverse outcomes, so that upon differentiation, fortune and misfortune are immediately judged; again, they list the treatments for abscesses (Zhongyang) and ulcers (Kuiyang), so that sequential treatment methods and internal and external prescriptions are all included. Furthermore, based on anatomical locations, meridians are differentiated, acupoint sequences determined, and names and colors identified, listed separately thereafter. Regulation generally falls within the aforementioned two treatments for abscesses and ulcers; those slightly different are listed under their respective symptoms to fill gaps. Where internal and external conditions appear similar, relevant sections are listed after the main categories for reference. Adding my modest personal insights, this collection differentiates symptoms and names broadly, ensuring even minor flaws are recorded without omission; it employs medicines and formulas concisely, aiming for direct effectiveness. As for my unique intuitive methods and secret prescriptions, I reveal them all openly, sparing no reservation. Alas! Since ancient times, using medicine is like using troops. Armies can win through orthodoxy, surprise, numerical superiority, inferiority, chariots, cavalry, boats, Wuhua formations, or Bazhen formations. It depends on assessing the necessary circumstances, so that a single move achieves success. Attacking toxins is like attacking bandits. Bandits must have weak points, such as Lake Dongting on the left and Mount Taihang on the right, with thousand-layer iron walls and nine-fold winding paths. By identifying these critical points, a small detachment can capture them and return victorious. How can this be considered a minor achievement? Therefore, I named this collection *Waike Dacheng* (Great Compendium of Surgery) to share it with the world. I, Kun, am not intelligent; how dare I change the name 'Dacheng'? It is merely a summary of accumulated efforts. Thus, I hope that people in the world, occasionally suffering from ailments, can understand clearly upon opening the book, thereby fully relieving themselves of reliance on physicians. How can one say that someone wielding a book cannot fully understand the horse's nature? Therefore, I detail my heartfelt struggles below, not daring to seek grand eloquence from great scholars, but simply adding Zhang Chu at the beginning.
In the fourth year of Kangxi, in the year Yisi, during the auspicious days of mid-autumn, Qi Kun, courtesy name Guangsheng, Imperial Physician of the Imperial Medical Bureau, recorded this.