绍龙王先生者，楫之受业师也。楫童年即知之。万历壬子夏，有同盟朱仲修相
引，乃负笈先生之门。先生与楫同里，相去仅百武。以故朝暮随从，风雨无阻。先
生盖未尝暇豫倦教也。先生初命楫读灵素，次本经，次难经，次伤寒论，次金匮，
次脉经。随读随讲。不升座，不据席，不作学究态。及其兴到理融，口言心应。开
阖也，升降也，方圆也，动静也，上下之感应也，左右之往来也，拆之则千，熔之
则一。卷舒六合，搏弄五行，真令花落空中，风生座上。愚如楫者，亦隐隐跃跃，
有瞻前忽后景象。先生岂常人也哉。先生少孤，早弃学。于经书义理，漠不相入。
传家医业，坐此而废。虽常以此为邑邑，然亦相安于无可奈何。已弱冠，听讲于土
桥绍觉师。师悯其钝朴，命令求慧。先生乃发愿拜清净，三年如一日。忽心中若初
燃之灯，乍明乍暗。久之，觉灯光渐大，灯焰渐高。试一开卷，便能解，非复畴昔
之茫然矣。自此日明一日，即大乘中秘、义理幽玄之书，皆若焚山照渚，水陆现形，
一无逃遁者。先生道业因之尊崇，家声借以振起，益信先生之非常人也。先生西归，
仅五十有九。时为天启甲子之二月，迄今三十年。所及门者，亦复凋谢殆尽。楫老
矣，欲述其指授，愧非游夏之才；不述，又无以毕先生之志。会庚寅夏日，偶及门
有以崔氏脉诀索讲者。读之良备，因用为张本，下以先生平日所教者注解之，而后
附以方。命曰医灯续焰，意谓挑灯而续其焰耳。若曰即此是灯，则吾岂敢？
先生于楫，名则师生，情同父子。受恩罔极，图报无从。尝欲作一传，以表先
生之才异，每苦无因。今本编注成，先后翻阅，皆本先生胸臆，故不敢僭为己有。
叙表于首，以充作传之意。
不肖潘楫叙
绍龙王先生，是我的授业恩师。我童年时就听说过他。万历壬子年（1612年）夏天，经由志同道合的朋友朱仲修引荐，我便背着书箱拜入先生门下求学。先生与我同乡，住处相距仅一百步之遥。因此，我早晚跟随侍奉，无论风雨都未曾间断。先生从未有过因闲暇安逸或疲倦而懈怠教学的时候。
先生起初让我研读《灵枢》与《素问》，接着是《神农本草经》，然后是《难经》，再是《伤寒论》，随后是《金匮要略》，最后是《脉经》。先生随读随讲，不登讲台，不占据席位，也不摆出学究的架子。每当兴致到来、理路贯通时，便口述心领，意会神交。无论是开合、升降、方圆、动静，还是上下之间的感应、左右之间的往来，拆解开来有千般变化，熔铸起来则归为一理。卷舒之间涵盖六合，搏弄之中调和五行，真可谓如花落空中自然飘零，风生座上清新宜人。像我这样愚钝的人，也隐约感到跃跃欲试，仿佛看到了前后变幻的景象。先生难道是一般人吗？
先生年少丧父，早年辍学。对于经书的义理，原本漠不关心，互不相通。因为家传医术，所以学业荒废。虽然常为此感到郁郁寡欢，但也只能无可奈何地安于现状。等到二十岁成年后，他在土桥向绍觉老师听讲学习。老师怜悯他天资迟钝朴实，命令他去寻求智慧。先生于是发愿拜清净为师（指静心修行），三年如一日地坚持。忽然间，心中好像初燃起的灯烛，忽明忽暗。久而久之，觉得灯光渐渐变大，灯焰渐渐升高。试着翻开书本，便能理解，不再像过去那样茫然无知了。从此一天比一天明亮，即使是深奥隐秘的大乘经典和义理幽玄的书籍，也都如同焚烧山峦照亮水洲一般，水陆万物显现原形，没有任何东西能够隐藏遁逃。先生的道业因此受到尊崇，家族声望借此振兴，更加确信先生绝非寻常之人。
先生去世时，年仅五十九岁。当时是天启甲子年（1624年）二月，至今已经三十年了。曾经受业于他的弟子，也已凋零殆尽。我也老了，想要记述他的教导，惭愧自己没有子游、子夏那样的才华；如果不记述，又无法完成先生的遗志。恰逢庚寅年（1650年）夏天，偶然有门人拿着崔氏的《脉诀》来请求讲解。这本书内容确实完备，因此用它作为基础文本，下面用先生平日所教的内容进行注解，最后附上方剂。书名定为《医灯续焰》，意思是挑亮灯芯延续火焰罢了。如果说这本身就是灯，那我岂敢当此称呼？
先生对我，名义上是师生，情谊却如同父子。受恩深重无边，报答无从下手。我曾经想写一篇传记，以表彰先生的非凡才华，但总是苦于没有机会。如今本编注释完成，前后翻阅，内容皆源于先生的胸臆见解，所以不敢擅自据为己有。在卷首写下这篇叙言，以充当传记的意义。
不肖学生潘楫 叙
Mr. Wang Shaolong was my teacher. I had known of him since childhood. In the summer of the Renzi year of the Wanli era (1612), introduced by my fellow scholar Zhu Zhongxiu, I carried my book chest to study under Mr. Wang's guidance. We were from the same hometown, and our residences were only a hundred paces apart. Consequently, I attended him morning and night without fail, regardless of wind or rain. Mr. Wang never showed any signs of being too leisurely, comfortable, or tired to teach.
Initially, he instructed me to read the *Ling Shu* (Spiritual Pivot) and *Su Wen* (Basic Questions), followed by the *Ben Cao Jing* (Divine Farmer's Materia Medica), then the *Nan Jing* (Classic of Difficult Issues), subsequently the *Shang Han Lun* (Treatise on Cold Pathogenic Diseases), then the *Jin Gui Yao Lue* (Essential Prescriptions of the Golden Cabinet), and finally the *Mai Jing* (Pulse Classic). He lectured as we read. He did not ascend a podium, nor did he sit in a seat of authority, nor did he adopt the demeanor of a pedant. When his inspiration arose and understanding merged, his spoken words resonated with his mind. Whether discussing opening and closing, ascending and descending, roundness and squareness, movement and stillness, mutual influence between upper and lower parts, or interaction between left and right, when deconstructed there were a thousand variations; when fused, they became one. Rolling and unrolling encompassed the Six Directions, manipulating and playing with the Five Elements truly made it seem like flowers falling naturally in mid-air and wind arising within the lecture hall. Even someone as dull as I felt a subtle urge to advance, experiencing scenes that seemed to shift before and behind. Was Mr. Wang an ordinary person?
Mr. Wang lost his father at a young age and abandoned his studies early. He was indifferent to the principles and meanings of classical texts. Because of this, the family tradition of medicine fell into disrepair. Although he often felt depressed about this, he could only accept it helplessly. Upon reaching adulthood (age twenty), he studied under Master Shao Jue at Tuqiao. The master, pitying his dullness and simplicity, commanded him to seek wisdom. Mr. Wang then vowed to cultivate purity and clarity, practicing for three years as if it were just one day. Suddenly, his mind was like a newly lit lamp, flickering bright and dim. After a long time, he felt the light gradually grow larger and the flame higher. When he tried opening a book, he could understand it, no longer feeling as bewildered as before. From then on, he became brighter each day. Even profound secret texts of Mahayana Buddhism and books with obscure philosophical meanings appeared as clearly as if mountains were burning to illuminate shores, revealing all forms on land and water, with nothing able to escape detection. His mastery of the Dao was thus revered, and his family's reputation was revitalized, further confirming that Mr. Wang was indeed extraordinary.
Mr. Wang passed away at the age of fifty-nine. This occurred in the second month of the Jiazi year of the Tianqi era (1624), which is thirty years ago. His disciples have mostly passed away or scattered. I am now old. I wish to recount his teachings, but I fear I lack the talent of You and Xia (Confucius' disciples Zhi You and Ran Qiu); yet, if I do not record them, I cannot fulfill his aspirations. Coincidentally, in the summer of the Gengyin year (1650), a disciple asked me to explain Cui Shi's *Mai Jue* (Pulse Mantra). The text was indeed comprehensive, so I used it as the foundation, annotating it below with Mr. Wang's usual teachings, and appended prescriptions at the end. I titled it *Yi Deng Xu Yan* (Medical Lamp Continuing the Flame), meaning to trim the wick and continue the flame. If one says this itself is the lamp, how dare I claim such status?
Regarding me, Mr. Wang was my teacher in name, but our affection was like that of father and son. My debt of gratitude is boundless, and I find no way to repay it. I once wished to write a biography to highlight his exceptional talents, but always suffered from a lack of opportunity. Now that this commentary is completed, reviewing it front to back, all content stems from Mr. Wang's own insights, so I dare not arrogantly claim it as my own. I write this preface at the beginning to serve the purpose of a biography.
The unworthy student Pan Ji writes.