Chapter 1 — The God of Light's Swapped Bride

Quang Minh Temple was bright that night as if the whole sky had poured out all the stars onto its curved tiled roof. The Great Dawn Festival - the biggest festival of the year in the Lam Thanh kingdom - falls on the full moon night of August, when people believe that the light of the Twelve Light Gods shines strongest on earth, enough to witness all vows. Hundreds of paper lanterns were lit and hung along the stone path leading to the main hall. The firelight inside reflected through the thin layer of paper, forming a golden river flowing in the dark night, and at the end of that river was a high stone pedestal where the high priest stood waiting, holding in his hand a list of couples who would be married that night.

Lang Y Nhi stood in the row of brides, a white silk veil covering her from the top of her head down to her chest, revealing only her eyes looking down at the stone floor. She could hear her heart pounding through the silver-embroidered wedding dress, as heavy as carrying the entire Lang family on her shoulders. Her father - Lang Vinh Khoi, who had just been granted the title of Huong Marquis less than a year ago - had spent all the capital accumulated over a lifetime of silk trading to get this marriage contract: marrying her to a prince of a long-standing noble lineage, a relationship that he believed would bring the Lang family officially into the ranks of Lam Thanh's most respected families.

Y Nhi does not love that person. She had never even met her. But she learned from a young age that the fate of a woman in a wealthy merchant family is that she has no choice, she only has the right to accept it in the most dignified manner possible. She clasped her hands together under her loose sleeves, trying to keep her steps from shaking as the line of people slowly advanced toward the stone platform.

Behind her, exactly three rows away, Lang Tuyet Vy stood more quietly than usual. Her beautiful face, which was always radiant when there was a chance to show off, tonight, hidden behind the veil, had a tension that was hard to name. Tuyet Vy heard that story from her mother - Doan Thanh Nhan - just three days ago: Y Nhi's marriage was actually not as simple as her father thought. There is the hand of a powerful earl behind pulling the strings of this whole thing, and that "noble" prince is just a pawn to lure Y Nhi into a much bigger game. Doan Thanh Nhan did not say who was behind it, but only told his biological daughter one thing: tonight, at all costs, it must be you who carries that scarf to step onto the stone pedestal, not Y Nhi.

"I don't understand why Mom is so sure," Tuyet Vy asked in her room, her voice half doubtful and half curious.

"I just need to know," Doan Thanh Nhan replied, looking straight, "that the reward behind this marriage is greater than anything I've ever imagined. And Y Nhi — she doesn't deserve it."

Tuyet Vy doesn't need to hear more. Jealousy was enough to make her act. Since childhood, she always had to stand behind the shadow of her half-sister - not because Y Nhi was more talented or more beautiful, but because the servants in the palace, for some reason, always gave Y Nhi a silent respect that she never had, even though she was the daughter who was openly pampered by her father. Tonight, she decides to get the only thing missing: a marriage that exceeds all expectations.

The plan was carried out in the darkness of the preparation room, where the brides were brought in for final dressing before going to the ceremony. A female official in charge of the ceremony, who had been generously bribed by Doan Thanh Nhan in advance, quietly swapped two jade cards engraved with names - the only thing that identified each bride's position in the line and the pairing with the corresponding groom. Under the thick veil, neither sister noticed the difference until they stood in line.

Y Nhi only felt someone's hand gently push her back right before entering the main hall, strong enough to make her move to another row without having time to react. In the crowded space, filled with incense and the echo of ceremonial music, such a small movement no one paid attention to.

The high priest began to call out names one by one, his voice echoing far and wide thanks to the temple's traditional sound amplification technique. Each pair stepped onto the stone pedestal, held out their wrists for the female mandarin to tie to it a thin thread woven from silk dipped in holy water - Hong Quang Minh Thread, which only glowed when the oath was witnessed by heaven, and once it glowed, according to Lam Thanh's age-old rules, no one - including the royal court - had the right to declare cancellation.

When it was her turn, Y Nhi stepped up, her heart beating like a war drum. She held out her wrist and felt another hand touch it, rougher than she expected, with calluses on the fingertips - not the hand of a noble man accustomed to being pampered.

She raised her head, but the veil was still covering her, and she could only vaguely see the figure opposite: tall, thin, wearing a faded cotton shirt, with something long on her back, wrapped in old leather - she later learned that it was a moon harp.

The female official's trembling hands wrapped the thread around her wrists, and the high priest raised his voice and recited the final prayer, inviting the Twelve Light Gods to witness.

The thread flared.

It's not the familiar pale yellow light that people still see in other couples tonight. It erupted into a bright white halo, so powerful that the entire main hall was silent for a moment, the ceremonial music stopped for half a beat, and the high priest took a step back, surprise clearly visible on his usually calm face.

“Fate was destined,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both awe and confusion. "I have never seen Chi Hong shine this bright in the thirty years of presiding over a grand ceremony."

The whispers spread quickly throughout the main hall. Everyone turned to look at the couple whose names had just been announced, trying to understand who was the honored person to receive such strong witness from the heavens. And it was when the veil was lifted by the female mandarin according to protocol that the entire Lang family standing in the row of honor below was dumbfounded.

It was not Tuyet Vy standing there, next to the noble prince that Lang Vinh Khoi had spent so much effort to obtain. It was Y Nhi - standing next to a strange man, his clothes torn at the shoulders, his feet wearing worn canvas shoes, his angular, weathered face with eyes as dark as a moonless night, his hand still holding an old guitar wrapped in worn leather.

"There is confusion!" Lang Vinh Khoi stood up, his voice completely lost. "This is not the person I arranged an engagement with!"

The high priest shook his head, his face unusually serious. "Dear Marquis of Huong, Chi Hong has come to light, the oath has been witnessed in front of the Twelve Light Gods. From this moment, according to the laws of Lam Thanh and the teachings of the Temple of Light, no earthly power - not even bloodlines, not even kingship - can be separated anymore."

Noise erupted throughout the main hall. Y Nhi stood frozen, her hand still holding the strange warmth from the thread that had just lost its light, looking bewildered at the strange man to whom fate had just tied her life. He was also looking at her, his eyes were so complex that it was hard to describe - not the surprise of someone who just got lucky, nor the satisfaction of a profiteer, but something almost... guilt, mixed with a flash of light that flashed very quickly in the bottom of his eyes, so fast that Y Nhi thought she was dizzy from the light of the lantern.

"Sorry," he said softly, his voice low and warm, loud enough for only her to hear amid the surrounding noise. "I didn't know this would happen."

Y Nhi did not have time to respond. Doan Thanh Nhan rushed forward, pulled the trembling Tuyet Vy out of the crowd, screamed for the high priest to redo the ceremony, and demanded justice for the "serious mistake" that had occurred. But the high priest just stood still, his stern eyes looking straight at the wrists that were still marked by the light of Y Nhi and the strange man, as if he was seeing something that no one else in this main hall could recognize.

All around, the ceremonial music had completely stopped. Hundreds of eyes turned towards them. Vinh Khoi Mausoleum stood as if petrified, his face pale, his lips moving soundlessly, while the whole main hall whispered endlessly about the unprecedented "incident" at Quang Minh Temple.

Y Nhi stood in the middle of that storm, feeling like the whole world had just collapsed and been recreated in just a short moment. She glanced at the man next to her - the husband whom fate had just assigned to her on a festival night that she thought would determine her life in a completely different way.

She doesn't know his name. I don't know where he comes from, what he does for a living, or whether he has a family or not. She only knew that, from the moment that thread lit up, all the plans and hopes of changing the life of the Lang family were dashed, and her life, from this night, took a turn that no one - including herself - could have predicted.

"My name is Tham Da Vu," the man said softly, as if reading the confusion in her eyes. There was something very strange in his voice, both strange and strangely familiar, like the sound of the wind blowing through a land she had never been to but felt familiar from the bottom of her heart. "From today, if you don't mind, I will be your husband."

Behind them, Doan Thanh Nhan's voice was still screaming, Lang Vinh Khoi's trembling voice spoke to the distinguished guests whose faces were gradually changing to contempt. But Y Nhi, standing in the middle of all those chaotic sounds, just nodded slightly, her voice so calm that she even surprised herself.

"Lang Y Nhi," she replied, "hello husband."

No one in the main hall that night knew that, just a few moments ago, the man standing trembling in shock like everyone else here, had raised his face to look up at the towering temple dome, where the full moon of August passed through the round door frame, and in that brief moment, a very small, very faint light flashed in the bottom of his eyes - a light that for the past twenty years, since the day he was expelled from heaven, Tham Da Vu had never once seen it appear.