In the first light of the new year, after the incense has been lit and the ancestors welcomed, a small ritual unfolds in millions of Vietnamese homes. Children press their palms together and bow to grandparents, to parents, to elders. They offer wishes for health and longevity, their voices soft with respect. And in return, they receive—small red envelopes, crisp and bright, passed from generation to generation.
This is lì xì. Lucky money. The red envelope tradition that has become one of the most beloved and enduring customs of Tết. It is not merely a gift of currency, not simply a transfer of wealth. It is a blessing folded into paper, a wish made tangible, a thread that connects the young and the old, the past and the future, in a single, graceful gesture.
The term “lì xì” carries its own history within its syllables. According to scholar Hạo-nhiên Nghiêm Toản, the word derives from the Cantonese pronunciation of the Chinese characters 利市 (lợi thị), which carries three interconnected meanings: the profit from commerce, that which is auspicious and beneficial, and good fortune or luck itself. In all these meanings, the thread is the same—lì xì is about receiving benefit, about encountering luck, about being touched by fortune.
In southern Vietnam, where Chinese cultural influences merged with indigenous traditions, the term took root and flourished. In the north, the custom is often called “mừng tuổi”—literally, “celebrating age” or “congratulating a new year of life.” Both names capture different facets of the same tradition: the giving of luck, the celebration of another year, the acknowledgment that time passes and we mark its passage with care.
Like all enduring traditions, lì xì has its origin stories. The most beloved traces back to a time when evil spirits roamed the earth, threatening the innocent.
According to legend, there once lived a fearsome demon named Tuy who dwelt in a giant peach tree in the Eastern Sea. Throughout the year, the gods kept Tuy imprisoned within the tree, preventing him from harming humanity. But on New Year’s Eve, when the gods ascended to heaven to receive their new assignments, Tuy was freed—and he immediately sought out the most vulnerable: children.
Tuy would creep into homes and touch the heads of sleeping children, causing them to fall ill, to cry uncontrollably, to suffer fever and fright. Families, desperate to protect their little ones, stayed awake through the night, keeping vigil.
One year, as a group of deities passed by a village, they witnessed the suffering and were moved to help. Transforming themselves into small gold coins, they appeared before the parents. Following divine guidance, the parents wrapped the coins in red cloth and placed them beneath their children’s pillows. When Tuy approached, the coins blazed with brilliant light, driving the demon away. The news spread, and soon all families were protecting their children with red-wrapped coins.
Thus began the tradition of giving lucky money in red envelopes—a custom rooted not in commerce but in love, not in wealth but in protection. The red color, most vibrant and auspicious in Vietnamese culture, came to symbolize the fire that repels evil, the life force that nurtures the young, the luck that accompanies the new year.
The giving of lì xì follows a form as precise as it is graceful. On the first day of Tết, after the family has gathered and the ancestors have been honored, the children approach the elders. They press their hands together in front of their chests and bow, offering New Year’s wishes: “Chúc mừng năm mới,” “Sống lâu trăm tuổi,” “An khang thịnh vượng.” For grandparents, the wish is for health and longevity; for parents, for success and prosperity.
The elders, in return, extend their own wishes—for the children to “eat well and grow quickly,” to study diligently, to be happy. And with these words, they present the red envelopes. The gesture is not merely transactional; it is a blessing passed from one generation to the next, a tangible expression of love and hope.
According to scholar Phan Kế Bính’s foundational work “Việt Nam Phong Tục” (Vietnamese Customs), the proper form requires descendants to offer lucky money and bow twice to their grandparents and parents. In return, the seniors give several coins as lucky money to their children—a reciprocal exchange that reinforces family bonds.
The red envelope is not merely packaging; it is an integral part of the blessing. Its color—đỏ—is the most powerful in the Vietnamese symbolic vocabulary, representing prosperity, good fortune, and the life-giving energy of spring. Traditionally, the envelope bears gold characters or images: the character for “luck” (phúc), for “longevity” (thọ), for “prosperity” (lộc). These are not decorations; they are invocations, prayers made visible.
The envelope serves another purpose as well: it conceals the amount inside. This is deliberate, essential to the tradition’s meaning. The value of the gift is not meant to be compared, not meant to be judged. It is the gesture, not the sum, that matters. Children are taught to receive the envelope with both hands, to thank the giver without opening it immediately, to understand that what they have received is not money but blessing.
The currency placed inside the red envelope carries its own significance. It must be new—crisp, clean, untouched. Old, worn bills would carry the residue of the past year, the accumulated wear of countless transactions. New money represents a fresh start, a clean slate, the unmarked potential of the year to come.
In the weeks before Tết, banks across Vietnam work overtime to meet the demand for new bills. Long lines form as people exchange their worn currency for crisp, uncirculated notes. ATMs are stocked with fresh money. The entire nation engages in a collective preparation, understanding that the small details matter.
The choice of denomination also carries meaning. Even numbers are preferred, especially those that sound auspicious when spoken. The number 10,000 VND note, with its reddish hue, is particularly beloved—its color reinforces the envelope’s own symbolism, creating a double blessing. Some seek out notes with special serial numbers: repeated digits, sequences that match a child’s birth year, numbers that evoke prosperity. Others prefer foreign currency, particularly the 2 USD note, which some believe carries its own luck.
While lì xì is most associated with children, the tradition has expanded to embrace all generations. Grandparents receive red envelopes from their descendants, the gesture now reversed—a recognition that elders also deserve blessing, also need luck, also merit care. Young adults give to their younger siblings, to their cousins, to the children of friends. Colleagues exchange envelopes. Even unmarried adults may receive lì xì, as the tradition once reserved for children now acknowledges that those not yet married are still “young” in the eyes of the community.
Eighty-seven-year-old Mai Thị Luyến recalls receiving lucky money as a child during the subsidy period, when life was hard and even a single coin was precious. Her parents would place the coins in a water tank to “keep them cool” and ensure a peaceful, lucky year. After Tết, the children would use the coins to play traditional games, their laughter filling the days. For her, as for generations of Vietnamese, the memory of lì xì is inseparable from the memory of family.
“The ‘li xi’ also represents their care for the health and spirit of the older people in the family. I know that the money was earned by their own efforts so I am happy because my children and grandchildren have stable jobs to earn their living. I think I am blessed.” — Nguyễn Thị Trầm, 74
A beautiful paradox lies at the heart of lì xì: the more you give, the more you receive. According to traditional belief, those who give lucky money are also inviting the flow of fortune into their own lives. The act of blessing others returns blessing to the giver. The family fortune, in some sense, is passed on through these small red envelopes, circulating and multiplying with each exchange.
This is not a transaction in the economic sense. It is a spiritual economy, where luck is not diminished by sharing but increased. The more envelopes you give, the more your own luck grows. The more children you bless, the more blessing returns to you. It is a beautiful inversion of the usual rules of exchange, a reminder that in the things that matter most, generosity does not deplete—it multiplies.
The tradition has evolved across generations, adapting to changing circumstances while retaining its essential meaning. During the subsidy period, when money was scarce and life was hard, the amounts were tiny—sometimes just a few coins. But the joy was no less profound, the blessing no less real.
Nguyễn Thị Trầm, now 74, remembers receiving lucky money as a child in a poor family. The coins she received allowed her to rent a bicycle with friends, to buy the food and toys she loved. For a few precious days, she experienced the freedom and joy that only children know—a gift made possible by the generosity of elders.
Today, children may receive larger sums, but the essential experience remains. Phùng Nguyên Bình, a second grader, explains: “The thing I love most when Tet comes is receiving lucky money. I usually spend a little of my money on toys and give the rest to my parents. I usually give ‘li xi’ to my cousin. He thanks me for the ‘li xi’ and it brings us closer to each other.”
As Vietnam modernizes, even this ancient tradition faces new questions. Electronic lucky money—transfers made through banking apps, accompanied by digital wishes—has become increasingly common. It offers convenience, security, and ease of management. But can a digital transfer carry the same meaning as a physical red envelope?
Historian Dương Trung Quốc reflects on this question: “If it is just a dry money transfer transaction, then electronic lucky money is no different from other transactions in economic life.” But he also notes that tradition need not remain static: “The important thing is to adapt tradition to the times while still preserving its core values. If modern forms of lucky money can include wishes, images, or messages with personal meaning, the recipient can still recognize the cultural significance of this custom, rather than just seeing it as a number in a bank account.”
Perhaps the envelope is not the essence. Perhaps the essence is the wish, the blessing, the recognition that we are connected. And if that connection can be maintained through new forms, then the tradition lives on.
At its heart, lì xì is not about money at all. It is about relationship—the bonds that tie generations together, the recognition that we are part of something larger than ourselves. When a grandparent gives lì xì to a grandchild, they are not transferring wealth; they are transferring hope. They are saying: I wish for you a year of health, of happiness, of growth. I bless your path forward.
When a child receives lì xì, they learn something essential: that they are cared for, that they belong, that the adults in their life are thinking of them. The money may be spent on toys or saved for school, but the feeling—the warmth of being seen, of being blessed—stays with them forever.
And when an adult gives lì xì to their own parents, the circle completes. The child who once received now gives. The care that flowed downward now flows upward as well. The family, in this small exchange, becomes whole.
As historian Dương Trung Quốc observes, customs like lì xì are the product of long historical processes, capable of self-refinement and adaptation. The challenge is not to preserve them unchanged—an impossibility in any living culture—but to understand their core values and ensure those values continue to find expression.
The core of lì xì is care. It is the recognition that we are bound to one another, that our fortunes are intertwined, that the new year is not just an individual fresh start but a communal one. In the giving and receiving of red envelopes, Vietnamese families enact this truth year after year, generation after generation.
As Tết approaches each year, the red envelopes appear in markets and banks, in family altars and children’s hands. They carry within them not just money but memory—the memory of grandparents long gone who once gave to parents who now give to children. They carry hope—hope for health, for prosperity, for happiness in the year to come. And they carry love—the quiet, enduring love that binds families together across time and distance.
This is lì xì. This is the red envelope tradition. This is one of the ways Vietnamese people say: you matter to me. You are part of my life. I wish you well.
And in that wish, the new year begins.
