典藏书目

I originally knew nothing about medicine. Twenty years ago, while living at home, I observed that many relatives and neighbors were harmed by mediocre physicians. I frequently advised patients not to hastily engage a doctor nor to take medication lightly. Later, at the residence of my cousin Zong Zhishan, I encountered *Bian Zheng Lu* (Record of Syndrome Differentiation) authored by Chen Yuan Gong. Upon trial, it proved remarkably effective. Knowing that this book originated from Zhejiang, I regretted that it existed only as a manuscript copy, preventing its widespread dissemination. Sixteen years later, while serving as an official in Zhejiang, I eagerly sought this book and finally obtained the edition printed by Huang Tui An. When I was sent on a mission to Yunnan, I kept a copy in my travel chest; trials there also yielded remarkable results. Regrettably, the printing blocks in Zhejiang had long been lost. I wished to have it printed to facilitate its spread, but could not accomplish this alone. I consulted Li Shiqu, Zhou Ningzhai, and Shuo Zhitang, who all agreed to support this endeavor. Thus, the book was printed in Yunnan. As the ancients said: "Although the herbs are used by my own hands, the prescriptions mostly originate from the ancients." This book not only transmits prescriptions but emphasizes syndrome differentiation first. Syndromes manifest externally. The deficiency or excess, cold or heat within a person are hidden and unknowable internally, whereas those manifesting externally are clearly distinguishable. Those who obtain this book should first examine the syndromes. If the symptoms are accurate, the medication can be effective, ensuring this book is not without benefit.
Recorded by Guo Chunzhang of Anyi in the ninth month of autumn, Ding Chou year, the 22nd year of the Jiaqing reign.

In the autumn of the Ding Mao year, I was a guest in Yan Shi (Beijing). Yellow chrysanthemums were just blooming. Missing friends from afar, I suddenly heard knocking at the door. Opening it to welcome the visitor, I saw two elderly men dressed in very dignified attire. I found this strange and bowed, asking them: "From where do you come, Sirs? Do you perhaps have rare knowledge to instruct me?" The two elders said: "We heard of your interest in medicine and have come specifically to discuss difficult cases." I declined, claiming my lack of aptitude. The elders said: "You possess literary talent; why not write a book to establish your reputation, instead of merely writing eight-legged essays, which I find shameful." I was impressed by their words. We then discussed classics such as *Ling Shu* (Spiritual Pivot) and *Su Wen* (Basic Questions), differentiating pulse and syndrome. Their discussions often contained insights not commonly found in the world. I found them even more extraordinary. After spending mornings and evenings together for several months, I absorbed their theoretical outlines. They departed after five months, instructing me: "From now on, you may proceed to write a book." Upon returning home, I recalled our discussions and combined them with my tested prescriptions, writing down several entries daily until they formed a collection. The difficulty of medical practice lies in the fact that without differentiating the pulse, one cannot grasp its subtleties; without differentiating the syndrome, one cannot understand its variations. Many people today learn diagnosis, yet each speaks differently, failing to reach a consensus. It might seem appropriate to focus on pulse differentiation rather than syndrome differentiation. However, although pulse differentiation is difficult to master, syndrome differentiation is easier to comprehend. Although ancient texts mention following the pulse over the syndrome, few actually follow the pulse, while many follow the syndrome. Moreover, syndrome differentiation is not easy. What is already known to everyone need not be differentiated; what has already been stated by the ancients need not be differentiated. One must select what contemporaries dare not say and what ancients did not cover, and elaborate upon them thoroughly. Discussing what is necessarily present in a syndrome, rather than speculating on improbable theories, may seem strange at first hearing, but upon reflection, it is not truly strange. A guest asked: "Cloth and grain can save lives; why must medical discourse be strange?" I replied: "Cloth and grain are plain and unremarkable, yet the principle of saving lives is indeed wondrous. One consumes them daily without knowing how they provide warmth or satiety, yet their efficacy is evident. My syndrome differentiation is akin to discussing the principles of cloth and grain." The guest laughed again: "Your discussion of principles is strange enough to demonstrate your literary talent; why rely on immortals to seek strangeness? I am a disciple of Confucius; how dare I casually claim authorship? Hearing the teachings of the two masters, I merely recount them. Why hide the fact that I am not an immortal? There is no need to hide being an immortal, but if you insist this book is not a recounting, are you not deceiving the world to appear strange? The book itself is not strange, yet it gains fame for being strange because I memorized hundreds of thousands of words from the two masters' teachings within five months, compiling them into a volume. Is this what is truly strange? Or am I merely boasting to the world?"
Chen Shiduo, courtesy name Jingzhi, pseudonym Yuangong, also known as Zhu Huazi, inscribed at Daya Hall.