Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of the Master's nose. Seventy years it had taken him to learn how to follow what his heart desires without transgression. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved the ritual.

Michael Nylan somewhere mentions a story supposedly from the Zhuangzi, in which a certain disciple turns up at the door of a master (Zhuangzi?), who then inquires of the newcomer, “But who are all those people you have brought with you?”
Anyone knows which passage this refers to? @rosenovick.com ?

禁察。