Nanmen Zhuyong 952涓囧瓧 56694浜鸿杩 杩炶浇
銆姽钚陆肥悠点
Yin Zhongjun was an expert at understanding the meridians, but he became useless in middle age. There was a messenger who was always there, but he suddenly kowtowed and bled. Hao asked why? He said, "There is a matter of death that cannot be told." After a long questioning, he finally said, "My mother is nearly a hundred years old and has been ill for a long time. If the officials can find her pulse, there will be a chance of survival. Then I will kill her without any regrets." Moved by his sincerity, he had her carried in, and he took her pulse and prescribed medicine. After taking one dose of soup, he recovered. So all the classics were burned.
In the last month of spring, the sun is in the stomach, the sunset is in the middle of the seven stars, and the dawn is in the middle of the morning star. It is the day of Jia and Yi. Its emperor is Dahao, and its god is Ju Mang. Its insect is scale. Its sound is Jiao, and its musical scale is Gu Xi. Its number is eight. Its taste is sour, and its smell is rancid. Its offering is to the door, and the first spleen. The tung tree begins to bloom, the field mouse turns into a quail, the rainbow begins to appear, and the duckweed begins to grow. The emperor lives in Qingyang Youge, rides on the Luan Road, drives the Canglong, carries the green flag, wears green clothes, and wears Cangyu. He eats wheat and sheep, and his utensils are sparse and clear.
When the body is just dead, the host cries, the brothers cry, and the women cry and jump. After the body is straightened, the son sits in the east, the father, brother, and son of the nobles and officials stand in the east, and the officials and commoners cry in the north below the hall; the wife sits in the west, the inner women, aunts, sisters, and son stand in the west, and the outer women, led by the outer clan, cry in the north above the hall. In the funeral of an official, the host sits in the east, and the mistress sits in the west. If there are nobles and ladies, they sit, and if there are none, they all stand. In the funeral of a scholar, the father, brother, and son of the host all sit in the east, and the aunts, sisters, and son of the mistress all sit in the west. When crying for the body in the room, the host holds the quilt with both hands and cries.
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