Before the tradition says anything, the day should be asked. A headache that arrives between three and five is, more often than not, a lunch that was skipped or eaten at the desk, a bottle of water that was not drunk, a screen that was not looked away from, the morning’s coffee leaving, or a neck held at one angle since nine. Those are not Chinese medicine. They are the floor, and most afternoon headaches never get above it.
What the tradition adds is a way of reading the ones that do. The late afternoon is the hour it attaches to the yangming, the stomach and large intestine, whose channel runs across the forehead and behind the eyes. A headache that keeps that appointment is read by where it sits, how it feels and what the day did: the forehead after a heavy lunch, the temples after an argument, a dull ache over everything after a tired week, a heavy band after a wet one.